OF  THE 

UNIVER5ITY 
Or  ILLINOIS 

331 

£n33nw 

1887 

zTc/t/iffe 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 
Of  ILLI  NOI5 

331 

EnSdiEw 

1887 

srcjf/iffe 


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in  2017  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign  Alternates 


https://archive.org/details/conditionofworki00enge_0 


TUE  CONDITION 


OF  THE 


WoRKII^G  Class  in  En^glan^d 

IN  1844 


WITH  APPENDIX  WRITTEN  1886,  AND  PREFACE  1887, 


BY 

FREDEßICK  ENGELS 


TrANSLATED  BY  Florence  Kelley  Wiscunewetzky 


NEW  YORK 

JOHN  W.  LOVELL  COMPANY 

14  AND  16  Vesey  Street 


COPYKIGHT,  1887. 

BT 

EACHEL  a rOSTEli. 


^ ^ 7<'  7’^  ' • 7 ^c.T  ^u  t/4l/^w^öi4. 


£/rv  33  ^ C.  A*^ 

inn 

Table  of  Contents. 

Page. 

PrEFACE  I — VI 

Introduction  - 3 

Chapter  1. 

The  Industrial  Proletariat  15 

Chapter  II. 

The  Great  Towns  - - 17 

Chapter  III. 

Competition  51 

Chapter  IV. 

Irish  Immigration  .------..-60 

Chapter  V. 

Results  - 63 

Chapter  VI. 

Single  Brauches  of  Industry  - --  -.--.89 

Chapter  VII. 

The  Remaining  Brauches  of  Industry  ------  125 

Chapter  VTIT. 

Labor  Movements  - --  --  --  --  - 142 

Chapter  IX. 

The  Mining  Proletariat  - --  --  --  --  i6i 

Chapter  X. 

The  Agricultural  Proletariat  - - - - - - - -174 

Chapter  XI. 

Attitüde  of  the  Bourgeoisie  Towards  the  Proletariat  - - . 184 

Appendix — ix 


II 


Epidemics— 11.,  26,  29,  42,  44,  65,  67,  106. 

Factory  Acts — vi.,  vii.,  13,  89,  loi,  113,  116,  iiS,  125. 

Food — Adulteration  of — 65. 

Insufflciency  of — 22,  50,  67.  68,  129,  138. 

Quality  of— 46,  49,  61,  93,  134. 

Free  Trade— ii.  v. — et.  seq.  123,  157,  179. 

INTEMPERANCE — 68,  84,  85. 

Inventions — 3,  5,  et.  seq.  29,  89,  et.  seq.  150. 

Law — A Bourgeois  Institution — 76,  86,  116,  120,  152,  1S8,  189,  192. 
New  Poor— 117,  154,  157,  175,  et.  seq.  igi,  190,  et.  seq. 

Old  Poor — 176,  190,  191. 

Of  Wages — VII.,  52,  et.  seq.  147. 

Mortality — 67,  70,  et.  seq.  95,  100,  163. 

Parliament— 13,  64,  74,  143,  153,  168,  189,  192. 

Philanthropy — 20,  60,  116,  142,  186. 

Police — 88,  148,  151,  152,  188,  189. 

Reform  Bill — v.,  13,  143,  154,  191. 

Reserve  Army — 57,  60. 

Schools — Day — 73,  et.  seq.  116,  134,  139,  i63. 

Night— 73,  168. 

Sunday— 74,  135,  168. 

Socialism — IV.,  V.,  IX.,  82,  158,  et.  seq.  184,  198. 

Starvation — 18,  21,  50,  52,  54,  60,  78,  112,  126,  190. 

Strikes— II.,  III.,  VI.,  VII.,  113,  144,  146,  149,  150,  155,  170,  172.  173 
Suicide— 77,  88. 

Surplus  Population— 55,  et.  seq.  92,  176,  178,  187,  192. 

Ten  Hours'  Bill — ii.,  94,  115,  117,  et.  seq.  154,  157,  189. 

Truck  System— ii.,  iii.,  122,  124,  169,  171. 

Ventilation  of  Dwellings— 25. 

Mines — 167. 

Towns— 19,  26,  37,  et.  seq.  43,  44,  64,  ct.  seq. 
Workiooms — 104,  106. 

WoRKHOUSES — 192,  et.  seq. 


P R E F A C E 


Ten  months  have  elapsed  since,  at  the  translator’s  wish,  I wrote  the  Appendix 
to  this  book;  and  during  these  ten  months,  a revolution  has  been  accomplislied  in 
American  society  such  as,  in  any  other  country,  would  have  taken  at  least  ten 
years.  In  February  1885,  American  public  opinion  was  almost  unanimous  on 
this  One  point;  that  there  was  no  working  dass,  in  the  European  sense  of  the 
Word,  in  America;  that  consequently  no  class-struggle  between  workmen  and 
capitalists,  such  as  tore  European  society  to  pieces,  was  possible  in  the  American 
Republic;  and  that,  therefore,  Socialism  was  a thing  of  foreign  importation 
which  could  never  take  root  on  American  soil.  And  yet,  at  that  moment,  the 
Corning  dass  struggle  was  Casting  its  gigantic  shadow  before  it  in  the  strikes  of 
the  Pennsylvania  coal  miners,  and  of  many  other  trades,  and  especially  in  the 
preparations,  all  over  the  country,  for  the  great  Eight  Hours’  movement  which  was 
to  come  off,  and  did  come  off,  in  the  May  following.  That  I then  duly 
appreciated  these  Symptoms,  that  I anticipated  a working  dass  movement  on  a 
national  scale,  my  “Appendix”  shows;  but  no  one  could  then  foresee  that  in 
such  a short  time  the  movement  would  burst  out  with  such  irresistible  force, 
would  spread  with  the  rapidity  of  a praiiie-fire,  would  shake  American  society 
to  its  very  foundations. 

The  fact  is  there,  stubborn  and  indisputable.  To  what  an  extent  it  had 
Struck  with  terror  the  American  ruling  classes,  was  revealed  to  me,  in  an  amusing 
way,  by  American  journalists  who  did  me  the  honor  of  calling  on  me  last 
Summer;  the  “ new  departure”  had  put  them  into  a state  of  helpless  fright  and 
perplexity.  But  at  that  time  the  movement  was  only  just  on  the  Start;  there 
was  but  a series  of  confused  and  apparently  disconnected  upheavals  of  that 
dass  which,  by  the  suppression  of  negro  slavery  and  the  rapid  development  of 
manufactures,  had  become  the  lowest  stratum  of  American  society.  Before  the 
year  closed,  these  bewildering  social  convulsions  began  to  take  a definite  direc- 
tion.  The  spontaneous,  instinctive  movements  of  these  vast  masses  of  working 
people,  over  a vast  extent  of  country,  the  simultaneous  outburst  of  their  com- 
mon discontent  with  a miserable  social  condition,  the  same  everywhere  and  due 
to  the  same  caiises,  made  them  conscious  of  the  fact,  that  they  formed  a new 
and  distinct  dass  of  American  society;  a dass  of — practically  speaking — more  or 
less  hereditary  wage-workers,  proletarians.  And  with  true  American  instiiict 
this  consciousness  led  them  at  once  to  take  the  next  step  towards  their  deliver- 
ance:  the  formation  of  a political  workingmen’s  party,  with  a platform  of  its 
own,  and  with  the  conquest  of  the  Capitol  and  the  White  House  for  its  goal. 


II 


In  May  the  struggle  for  the  Eight  Hours'  working-day,  the  troubles  in  Chicago, 
Milwaukee,  etc.,  the  attempts  of  the  ruling  dass  to  crush  the  nascent  upris- 
ing  of  Labor  by  brüte  force  and  brutal  class-justice;  in  November  the  new 
Labor  Party  organized  in  all  great  centres,  and  the  New  York,  Chicago  and 
Milwaukee  elections.  May  and  November  have  hitherto  reminded  the  American 
bourgeoisie  only  of  the  payment  of  Coupons  of  U.  S.  bonds;  henceforth  May 
and  November  will  remind  them,  too,  of  the  dates  on  which  the  American  work- 
ing dass  presented  iheir  Coupons  for  payment. 

In  European  countries,  it  took  the  working  dass  years  and  years  before  they 
fully  realized  the  fact  that  they  formed  a distincf  and,  undei  the  existing  social 
conditions,  a permanent  dass  of  modern  society;  and  it  took  years  again  until 
this  class-consciousness  led  them  to  form  themselves  into  a distinct  political  party, 
independent  of,  and  opposed  to,  all  the  old  political  parties  formed  by  the  vari- 
ous  sections  of  the  ruling  classes.  On  the  more  favored  soil  of  America,  where 
no  mediaeval  ruins  bar  the  way,  where  history  begins  with  the  elements  of 
modern  bourgeois  society  as  evolved  in  the  seventeenth  Century,  the  working 
dass  passed  through  these  two  stages  of  its  development  within  ten  months. 

Still,  all  this  is  but  a beginning.  That  the  laboring  masses  should  feel  their 
Community  of  grievances  and  of  interests,  their  solidarity  as  a dass  in  Opposition 
to  all  other  classes;  that  in  Order  to  give  expression  and  effect  to  this  feeling, 
they  should  set  in  motion  the  political  machinery  provided  for  that  purpose  in 
every  free  country — that  is  the  first  Step  only.  The  next  Step  is  to  find  the 
common  remedy  for  these  common  grievances,  and  to  embody  it  in  the  platform 
of  the  new  Labor  Party.  And  this — the  most  important  and  the  most  difficult 
Step  in  the  movement — has  yet  to  be  taken  in  America. 

A new  party  must  have  a distinct  positive  platform;  a platform  which  may 
Vary  in  details  as  circumstances  vary  and  as  the  party  itself  developes,  but  still  one 
upon  which  the  party,  for  the  time  being,  is  agreed.  So  long  as  such  a platform 
has  not  been  worked  out,  or  exists  but  in  a rudimentary  form,  so  long  the  new 
party,  too,  will  have  but  a rudimentary  existence;  it  may  exist  locally  but  not 
yet  nationally;  it  will  be  a party  potentially  but  not  actually. 

That  platform,  whatever  may  be  its  first  initial  shape,  must  develop  in  a direc- 
tion  which  may  be  determined  beforehand.  The  causes  that  brought  into  existence 
the  abyss  between  the  working  dass  and  the  Capitalist  dass  are  the  same  in 
America  as  in  Europe;  the  means  of  filling  up  that  abyss,  are  equally  the  same 
everywhere.  Consequently,  the  platform  of  the  American  Proletariat  will  in  the 
long  run  coincide  as  to  the  ultimate  end  to  be  attained,  with  the  one  which,  after 
sixty  years  of  dissensions  and  discussions,  has  become  the  adopted  platform  of 
the  great  mass  of  the  European  militant  Proletariat.  It  will  proclaim,  as  the 
ultimate  end,  the  conquest  of  political  supremacy  by  the  working  dass,  in  Order 
to  effect  the  direct  appropriation  of  all  means  of  production — land,  railways, 
mines,  machinery.  etc. — by  society  at  large,  to  be  worked  in  common  by  all  for 
the  account  and  benefit  of  all. 


III 


But  if  the  new  American  party,  like  all  political  parties  everywhere,  by  the 
very  fact  of  its  formation  aspires  to  the  conquest  of  political  power,  it  is  as  yet 
far  froin  agreed  upon  what  to  do  with  that  power  when  pnce  attained.  In  New 
York  and  the  other  great  cities  of  the  East,  the  Organization  of  the  working  dass 
has  proceeded  upon  the  lines  of  Trades’  Societies,  forming  in  each  city  a power- 
ful  Central  Labor  Union.  In  New  York  the  Central  Labor  Union,  last  Novem- 
ber, chose  for  its  Standard  bearer  Henry  George,  and  consequently  its  temporary 
electoral  platform  has  been  largely  iihbued  with  his  principles.  In  the  great 
cities  of  the  North  West  the  electoral  battle  was  fought  upon  a rather  indefinite 
labor  platform,  and  the  influence  of  Henry  George’s  theories  was  scarcely,  if  at 
all,  visible.  And  while  in  these  great  cencres  of  population  and  of  industry  the 
new  dass  movement  came  to  a political  head,  we  find  all  over  the  country  two 
wide  spread  labor  organizations:  the  “Knights  of  Labor”  and  the  “Socialist 
Labor  Party,”  of  which  only  the  latter  has  a platform  in  harmony  with  the 
modern  European  standpoint  as  summarized  above. 

Of  the  three  more  or  less  definite  forms  under  which  the  American  labor  move- 
ment thus  presents  itself,  the  first,  the  Henry  George  movement  in  New  York, 
is  for  the  moment  of  a chiefly  local  significance.  No  doubt  New  York  is  by  far 
the  most  important  city  of  the  States;  büt  New  York  is  not  Paris  and  the 
United  States  are  not  France.  And  it  seems  to  me  that  the  Henry  George  plat- 
form, in  its  present  shape,  is  too  narrow  to  form  the  basis  for  anything  but  a 
local  movement,  or  at  best  for  a short-lived  phase  of  the  general  movement. 
To  Henry  George,  the  expropriation  of  the  mass  of  the  people  from  the  land  is 
the  great  and  universal  cause  of  the  Splitting  up  of  the  people  into  Rieh  and  Poor. 
Now  this  is  not  quite  correct  historically.  In  Asiatic  and  classical  antiquity,  the 
predominant  form  of  class-oppression  was  slavery,  that  is  to  say,  not  so  much 
the  expropriation  of  the  masses  from  the  land  as  the  appropriation  of  their 
persons.  When,  in  the  decline  of  the  Roman  Republic,  the  free  Italian  peasants 
were  expropriated  from  their  farms,  they  formed  a dass  of  “poor  whites  ” 
similar  to  that  of  the  Southern  Slave  States  before  i86i;  and  between  slaves 
and  poor  whites,  two  classes  equally  unfit  for  self-emancipation,  the  old  world 
went  to  pieces.  In  the  middle  ages,  it  was  not  the  expropriation  of  the  people 
f7'om^  but  on  the  contrary,  their  appropriation  to  the  land  which  became 
the  source  of  feudal  oppression.  The  peasant  retained  his  land,  but  was 
attached  to  it  as  a serf  or  villein,  and  made  liable  to  tribute  to  the  lord  in  labor 
and  in  produce.  It  was  only  at  the  dawn  of  modern  times,  towards  the  end  of 
the  fifteenth  Century,  that  the  expropriation  of  the  peasantry  on  a large  scale 
laid  the  foundation  for  the  modern  dass  of  wage-workers  who  possess  nothing 
but  their  labor-power  and  can  live  only  by  the  selling  of  that  labor  power  to 
others.  But  if  the  expropriation  from  the  land  brought  this  dass  into  existence, 
it  was  the  development  of  capitalist  production,  of  modern  industry  and 
agriculture  on  a large  scale  which  perpetuated  it,  increased  it,  and  shaped  it  into 
a distinct  dass  with  distinct  interests  and  a distinct  historical  mission.  All  this 
has  been  fully  expounded  by  Marx  (“Capital,”  Part  VIH:  “The  so-called 


IV 


primitive  Accumulation.”)  According  to  Marx,  the  cause  of  the  present  an- 
tagonism  of  the  classes  and  of  the  social  degradation  of  the  working  dass  is 
their  expropriation  from  all  means  of  production,  in  which  the  land  is  of  course 
included. 

If  Henry  George  declares  land-monopolization  to  be  the  sole  cause  of  poverty 
and  misery,  he  naturally  finds  the  remedy  in  the  resumption  of  the  land  by 
society  at  large.  Now,  the  Socialists  of  the  school  of  Marx,  too,  demand  the 
resumption,  by  society,  of  the  land,  and  not  only  of  the  land  but  of  all  other 
means  of  production  likewise.  But  even  if  we  leave  these  out  of  the  question, 
there  is  another  difference.  What  is  to  be  done  with  the  land?  Modern 
Socialists,  as  represented  by  Marx,  demand  that  it  should  be  held  and  worked 
in  common  and  for  common  account,  and  the  same  with  all  other  means  of 
social  production,  mines,  railways,  factories,  etc. ; Henry  George  would  confine 
himself  to  letting  it  out  to  individuals  as  at  present,  merely  regulating  its  dis- 
tribution  and  applying  the  rents  for  public,  instead  of,  as  at  present,  for  private 
purposes.  What  the  Socialists  demand,  implies  a total  revolution  of  the  whole 
System  of  social  production;  what  Henry  George  demands,  leaves  the  present 
mode  of  social  production  untouched,  and  has,  in  fact,  been  anticipated  by  the 
extreme  section  of  Ricardian  bourgeois  economists  who,  too,  demanded  the  con- 
fiscation  of  the  rent  of  land  by  the  State. 

It  would  of  course  be  unfair  to  suppose  that  Henry  George  has  said  his  last 
Word  once  for  all.  But  I am  bound  to  take  his  theory  as  I find  it. 

The  second  great  section  of  the  American  movement  is  formed  by  the  Knights 
of  Labor.  And  that  seems  to  be  the  section  most  typical  of  the  present  state  of 
the  movement,  as  it  is  undoubtedly  by  far  the  strongest.  An  immense  associa- 
tion  spread  over  an  immense  extent  of  country  in  innumerable  “ assemblies,’* 
representing  all  shades  of  individual  and  local  opinion  within  the  working  dass; 
the  whole  of  them  sheltered  under  a platform  of  corresponding  indistinctness  and 
held  together  much  less  by  their  impracticable  Constitution  than  by  the  instinctive 
feeling  that  the  very  fact  of  their  clubbing  together  for  their  common  aspiration 
makes  them  a great  power  in  the  country;  a truly  American  paradox  clothing 
the  most  modern  tendencies  in  the  most  mediaeval  mummeries,  and  hiding  the 
most  democratic  and  even  rebellious  Spirit  behind  an  apparent,  but  really  power- 
less  despotism — such  is  the  picture  the  Knights  of  Labor  offer  to  a European 
observer.  But  if  we  are  not  arrested  by  mere  outside  whimsicalities,  we  cannot 
help  seeing  in  this  vast  agglomeration  an  immense  amount  of  potential  energy 
evolving  slowly  but  surely  into  actual  force.  The  Knights  of  Labor  are  the 
first  national  Organization  created  by  the  American  Working  Class  as  a whole; 
whatever  be  their  origin  and  history,  whatever  their  shortcomings  and  little 
absurdities,  whatever  their  platform  and  their  Constitution,  here  they  are,  the 
work  of  practically  the  whole  class  of  American  wage-workers,  the  only  national 
bond  that  holds  them  together,  that  makes  their  strength  feit  to  themselves  not 
less  than  to  their  enemies,  and  that  fills  them  with  the  proud  hope  of  future 
victories.  For  it  would  not  be  exact  to  say  that  the  Knights  of  Labor  are  liable 


V 


to  development.  They  are  constantly  in  full  process  of  development  and  revo- 
lution;  a heaving,  fermenting  mass  of  plastic  material  seekin^  the  shape  and 
form  appropriate  to  its  inherent  nature.  That  form  will  be  attained  as  surely 
as  historical  evolution  has,  like  natural  evolution,  its  own  immanent  laws. 
Whether  the  Knights  of  Labor  will  then  retain  their  present  name  or  not,  makes 
no  difference,  but  to  an  Outsider  it  appears  evident  that  htre  is  the  raw  material 
out  of  which  the  futureof  the  American  working  dass  movement,  and  along  with 
it,  the  future  of  American  society  at  large,  has  to  be  shaped. 

The  third  section  consists  of  the  Socialist  Labor  Party.  This  section  is  a 
party  but  in  name,-  for  nowhere  in  America  has  it,  up  to  now,  been  able  actually 
to  take  its  stand  as  a political  party.  It  is,  moreover,  to  a certain  extent  foreign 
to  America,  having  until  lately  been  made  up  almost  exclusively  by  German 
immigrants,  using  their  own  language  and  for  the  most  part,  little  conversant 
with  the  common  language  of  the  country.  But  if  it  came  from  a foreign  stock, 
it  came,  at  the  same  time,  armed  with  the  experience  earned  during  long  years 
of  cla^s-struggle  in  Europe,  and  with  an  insight  into  the  general  conditions  of 
working  dass  emancipation,  far  superior  to  that  hitherto  gained  by  American 
workingmen.  This  is  a fortunate  circumstance  for  the  American  proletarians 
who  thus  are  enabled  to  appropriate,  and  to  take  advantage  of,  the  intellectual 
and  moral  fruits  of  the  forty  years’  struggle  of  their  European  classmates,  and 
thus  to  hasten  on  the  time  of  their  own  victory.  For,  as  I said  before,  there 
cannot  be  any  doubt  that  the  ultimate  platform  of  the  American  working  dass 
must  and  will  be  essentially  the  same  as  that  now  adopted  by  the  whole  militant 
working  dass  of  Europe,  the  same  as  that  of  the  German-American  Socialist 
Labor  Party.  In  so  far  this  party  is  called  upon  to  play  a very  important  part 
in  the  movement.  But  in  Order  to  do  so  they  will  have  to  doff  every  remnant 
of  their  foreign  garb.  They  will  have  to  become  out  and  out  American.  They 
cannot  expect  the  Americans  to  come  to  them;  they,  the  minority  and  the  immi- 
grants, must  go  to  the  Americans,  who  are  the  vast  majority  and  the  natives. 
And  to  do  that,  they  must  above  all  things  learn  English. 

The  process  of  fusing  together  these  various  dements  of  the  vast  moving 
mass — elements  not  really  discordant,  but  indeed  mutually  isolated  by  their 
various  starting-points — will  take  some  time  and  will  not  come  off  wichout 
a deal  of  friction,  such  as  is  visible  at  different  points  even  now.  The  Knights 
of  Labor,  for  instance,  are  here  and  there,  in  the  Eastern  cities,  locally  at  war 
with  the  organized  Trades  Unions.  But  then  this  same  friction  exists  within 
the  Knights  of  Labor  themselves,  where  there  is  anything  but  peace  and 
harmony.  These  are  not  Symptoms  of  decay,  for  capitalists  to  crow  over.  They 
are  merely  signs  that  the  innumerable  hosts  of  workers,  for  the  first  time  set  in 
motion  in  a common  direction,  have  as  yet  found  out  neither  the  adequate  ex- 
pression  for  their  common  interests,  nor  the  form  of  Organization  best  adapted 
to  the  struggle,  nor  the  discipline  required  to  insure  victory,  They  are  as  yet 
the  first  levies  en  masse  of  the  great  revolutionary  war,  raised  and  equipped 
locally  and  independently,  all  converging  to  form  one  common  army,  but  as  yet 


VI 


without  regulär  Organization  and  common  plan  of  campaign.  The  converging 
columns  cross  each  other  here  and  there;  confusion,  angry  disputes,  even  threats 
of  conflict  arise.  But  the  communlty  of  ultimate  purpose  in  the  end  overcomes 
all  minor  troubles;  ere  long  the  rytraggling  and  squabbling  batallions  will  be 
formed  in  a long  line  of  battle  array,  presenting  to  the  enemy  a well-ordered 
front,  ominously  silent  under  their  glittering  arms,  supported  by  bold  skirmishers 
in  front  and  by  unshakeable  reserves  in  the  rear. 

To  bring  about  this  result,  the  unification  of  the  various  independent  bodies 
into  one  national  Labor  Army,  with  no  matter  how  inadequate  a provisional  plat- 
form,  provided  it  be  a truly  working  dass  platform^ — that  is  the  next  great  Step  to  be 
accomplished  in  America.  To  effect  this,  and  to  make  that  platform  worthy  of 
the  cause,  the  Socialist  Labor  Party  can  contribute  a great  deal,  if  they  will  only 
act  in  the  same  way  as  the  European  Socialists  have  acted  at  the  time  when  they 
were  but  a small  minority  of  the  working  dass.  That  line  of  action  was  first 
laid  down  in  the  “ Communist  Manifesto  ” of  1847  in  the  following  words: 

“ The  Communists  ” — that  was  the  name  we  took  at  the  time  and  which  even 
now  we  are  far  from  repudiating — “the  Communists  do  not  form  a separate 
party  opposed  to  )ther  working  dass  parties. 

“ They  have  no  interests  separate  and  apart  from  the  interests  of  the  whole 
working  dass. 

“ They  do  not  set  up  any  sectarian  principles  of  their  own,  by  which  to  shape 
and  model  the  proletarian  movement. 

“ The  Communists  are  distinguished  from  the  other  working  dass  parties  by 
this  only:  i.  In  the  national  struggles  of  the  proletarians  of  the  different 
■countries  they  point  out,  and  bring  to  the  front,  the  common  interests  of  the 
whole  Proletariat,  interests  independent  of  all  nationality;  2.  In  the  various 
stages  of  development  which  the  struggle  of  the  working  dass  against  the 
capitalist  dass  has  to  pass  throngh,  they  always  and  everywhere  represent  the 
interests  of  the  movement  as  a whole. 

“The  Communists,  therefore,  are  on  the  one  hand,  practically,  the  most 
advanced  and  resolute  section  of  the  working  dass  parties  of  all  countries,  that 
section  which  ever  pushes  forward  all  others;  on  the  other  hand,  theoretically, 
they  have,  over  the  great  mass  of  the  proletarians,  the  ad  van  tage  of  clearly 
understanding  the  line  of  march,  the  conditions,  and  the  ultimate  general  results 
•of  the  proletarian  movement. 

“ Thus  they  fight  for  the  attainment  of  the  immediate  ends,  for  the  enforce- 
ment  of  the  momentary  interests  of  the  working  dass;  but  in  the  movement  ol 
the  present,  they  represent  and  take  care  of  the  future  of  the  movement.” 

That  is  the  line  of  action  which  the  great  founder  of  Modern  Socialism,  Karl 
Marx,  and  with  him,  I and  the  Socialists  of  all  nations  who  worked  along  with 
US,  have  followed  for  more  than  forty  years,  v/ith  the  result  that  it  has  led  to 
victory  everywhere,  and  that  at  this  moment  the  mass  of  European  Socialists,  in 
Germany  and  in  France,  in  Belgium,  Holland  and  Switzerland,  in  Denmark  and 
Sweden  as  well  as  in  Spain  and  Portugal,  are  fighting  as  one  common  army 
under  one  and  the  same  flag. 

London,  January  26,  1887. 


Frederick  Engels. 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  history  of  the  Proletariat  in  England  begins  with  the  second  half  of  the 
last  Century,  with  the  invention  of  the  steam-engine  and  of  machinery  for  work> 
ing  cotton.  These  inventions  gave  risc,  as  is  well  known,  to  an  industrial  revo- 
lution,  a revolution  which  altered'  the  whole  civil  society;  one,  the  historical 
importance  of  which  is  only  now  beginning  to  be  recognized.  England  is  the 
classic  soil  of  this  transformation  which  was  all  the  mightier,  the  more  silently 
it  proceeded;  and  England  is,  therefore,  the  classic  land  of  its  chief  product 
also,  the  Proletariat.  Only  in  England  can  the  Proletariat  be  studied  in  all  its 
relations  and  from  all  sides. 

We  have  not,  here  and  now,  to  deal  with  the  history  of  this  revolution,  nor 
with  its  vast  importance  for  the  present  and  the  future.  Such  a delineation 
must  be  reserved  for  a future,  more  comprehensive  work.  For  the  moment,  we 
must  limit  ourselves  to  the  little  that  is  necessary  for  understanding  the  facts 
that  follow,  for  comprehending  the  present  state  of  the  English  Proletariat. 

Before  the  introduction  of  machinery,  the  spinning  and  weaving  of  raw  ma- 
terials  was  carried  on  in  the  workingman’s  home.  Wife  and  daughter  spun  the 
yarn  that  the  father  wove  or  that  they  sold,  if  he  did  not  work  it  up  himself. 
These  weaver  families  lived  in  the  country  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  towns, 
and  could  get  on  fairly  well  with  their  wages,  because  the  home  market  was 
almost  the  only  one  and  the  crushing  power  of  competition  that  came  later  with 
the  conquest  of  foreign  markets  and  the  extension  of  trade,  did  not  yet  press 
upon  wages.  There  was,  further,  a constant  increase  in  the  demand  of  the 
home  market,  keeping  pace  with  the  slow  increase  in  population  and  employ- 
ing  all  the  workers;  and  there  was  also  the  impossibility  of  vigorous  competition 
of  the  workers  among  themselves,  consequent  upon  the  rural  dispersion  of  their 
homes.  So  it  was  that  the  weaver  was  usually  in  a position  lo  lay  by  something 
and  rent  a little  piece  of  land  that  he  cultivated  in  his  leisure  hours,  of  which  he 
had  as  many  as  he  chose  to  take,  since  he  could  weave  whenever  and  as  long  as 
he  pleased.  True,  he  was  a bad  farmer  and  managed  his  land  inefficiently, 
often  obtaining  but  poor  crops;  nevertheless,  he  was  no  proletarian,  he  had  a 
Stake  in  the  country,  he  was  permanently  settled,^and  stood  one  Step  higher  in 
society  than  the  Enghsh  workman  of  to-day. 

So  the  workers  vegetated  throughout  a passably  comfortable  existence,  lead 
ing  a righteous  and  peaceful  life  in  all  piety  and  probity;  and  their  material 
Position  was  far  better  than  that  of  their  successors.  They  did  not  need  tu 
overwork;  they  did  no  more  than  they  chose  to  do,  and  yet  earne^  what  they 
needed.  They  had  leisure  for  healthful  work  in  garden  or  field,  work  which, 
in  itself,  was  recreation  for  them,  and  they  could  take  part  besides  in  the  recrc- 
ations  and  games  of  their  neighbors,  and  all  these  games,  bowling,  cricket,  foot- 
ball,  etc.,  contributed  to  their  physical  health  and  vigor.  They  wcre,  for  the 


4 


most  part,  strong,  well-built  people,  in  whose  physique  little  or  no  difference 
from  that  of  their  peasant  neighbors  was  discoverable.  Their  children  grew  up 
in  the  fresh  country  air  and,  if  they  could  help  their  parents  at  work,  it  was 
only  occasionally;  while  of  eight  or  twelve  hours  work  for  them  there  was  no 
question. 

What  the  moral  and  intellectual  character  of  this  dass  was,  may  be  guessed. 
Shut  off  from  the  towns  which  they  never  entered,  their  yarn  and  woven  stuff 
being  delivered  to  traveling  agents  for  payment  of  wages — so  shut  off  that  old 
people  who  lived  quite  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  town,  never  went  thither 
until  they  were  robbed  of  their  trade  by  the  introduction  of  machinery  and 
obliged  to  look  about  them  in  the  towns  for  work — the  weavers  stood  upon  the 
moral  and  intellectual  plane  of  the  yeomen  with  whom  they  were  usually  im- 
mediately  connected  through  their  little  holdings.  They  regarded  their  squire, 
the  g^eatest  landholder  of  the  region,  as  their  natural  superior;  they  asked  advice 
of  him,  laid  their  small  disputes  before  him  for  Settlement,  and  gave  him  all 
honor,  as  this  patriarchal  relation  involved.  'fhey  were  “ respectable  ” people, 
good  husbands  and  fathers,  led  moral  lives  because  they  had  no  temptation  to 
be  immoral,  there  being  no  groggeries  or  low  houses  in  their  vicinity  and  be- 
cause the  host,  at  whose  inn  they  now  and  then  quenched  their  thirst  was 
also  a respectable  man,  usually  a large  tenant  farmer  who  had  pride  in  his 
good  Order,  good  beer,  and  early  hours.  They  had  their  children  the  whole 
day  at  home,  and  brought  them  up  in  obedience  and  the  fear  of  God;  the 
patriarchal  relationship  remained  undisturbed  so  long  as  the  children  were  un- 
married.  The  young  people  grew  up  in  idyllic  simplicity  and  intimacy  with 
their  playmates  until  they  married;  and  even  though  sexual  intercourse  before 
marriage  almost  unfailingly  took  place,  this  happened  only  when  the  moral 
Obligation  of  marriage  was  recognized  on  both  sides,  and  a subsequent  wedding 
made  everything  good.  In  short,  the  English  industrial  workers  of  those  days 
lived  and  thought  after  the  fashion  still  to  be  found  here  and  there  in  Germany, 
in  retirement  and  seclusion,  without  mental  activity  and  without  violent  fluctu- 
ations  in  their  position  in  life.  f^hey  could  rarely  read  and  far  more  rarely 
write;  went  regularly  to  church,  never  talked  politics,  never  conspired,  never 
thought,  delighted  in  physical  exercises,  listened  with  inherited  reverence  when 
the  Bible  was  read,  and  were,  in  their  unquestioning  humility,  exceedingly  well 
disposed  towards  the  “superior”  classes.  But  intellectually,  they  were  dead; 
lived  only  for  their  petty,  private  interest,  for  their  looms  and  gardens,  and 
knew  nothing  of  the  mighty  movement  which,  beyond  their  horizon,  was  sweep- 
ing  through  mankind.  They  were  comfortable  in  their  silent  Vegetation,  and 
but  for  the  industrial  revolution  they  would  never  have  emerged  from  this  ex. 
istence,  which  cosily  romantic  as  it  was,  was  nevertheless  not  worthy  of  human 
beiugs.  In  truth,  they  were  not  human  beings;  they  were  merely  toiling 
machines  in  the  Service  of  the  few  aristocrats  who  had  guided  history  down  to 
that  time.  The  industrial  revolution  has  simply  carried  this  out  to  its  logical 
end  by  making  the  workers  machines  pure  and  simple,  taking  from  them  the 
last  trace  of  independent  activity,  and  so  forcing  them  to  think  and  demand  a 


5 


Position  worthy  of  men.  As  in  France  politics,  so  in  England  manufacture, 
and  the  movement  of  civil  society  in  general  drew  into  the  whirl  of  history  the 
last  classes  which  had  remained  sunk  in  apathetic  indifference  to  the  universal 
interests  of  mankind. 

The  first  invention  which  gave  rise  to  a radical  change  in  the  state  of  the 
English  workers  was  the  jenny,  invented  in  the  year  1764  by  a weaver,  James 
Hargreaves,  of  vStandhill,  near  Blackburn,  in  North  Lancashire.  This  machine 
was  the  rough  beginning  of  the  later  invented  mule,  and  was  moved  by  hand. 
Instead  of  one  spindle  like  the  ordinary  spinning-wheel,  it  carried  sixteen  or 
eighteen  manipulated  by  a single  workman.  This  invention  made  it  possible 
to  deliver  more  yarn  than  heretofore.  Whereas,  though  one  weaver  had  em- 
ployed  three  Spinners,  there  had  never  been  enough  yarn  and  the  weaver  had 
often  been  obliged  to  wait  for  it,  there  was  now  more  yarn  to  be  had  than  could 
be  woven  by  the  available  workers.  The  demand  for  woven  goods,  already  in- 
creasing,  rose  yet  more  in  consequence  of  the  cheapness  of  these  goods,  which 
cheapness  in  turn,  was  the  outcome  of  the  diminished  cost  of  producing  the 
yarn.  More  weavers  were  needed,  and  weavers’  wages  rose.  Now  that  the 
weaver  could  earn  more  at  his  loom,  he  gradually  abandoned  his  farming,  and 
gave  his  whole  time  to  weaving.  At  that  time  a family  of  four  grown  persons  and 
two  children  (who  were  set  to  spooling),  could  earn  with  eight  hours'  daily  work 
four  pounds  sterling  in  a week,  and  often  more  if  trade  was  good  and  work 
pressed.  It  happened  often  enough  that  a single  weaver  earned  two  pounds  a 
week  at  his  loom.  By  degrees  the  dass  of  farming  weavers  wholly  disappeared, 
and  was  merged  in  the  newly  arising  dass  of  weavers  who  lived  wholly  upon 
wages,  had  no  property  whatever,  not  even  the  pretended  property  of  a holding, 
and  so  became  workingmen,  proletarians.  Moreover,  the  old  relation  between 
Spinner  and  weaver  was  destroyed.  Hitherto,  so  far  as  this  had  been  possible, 
yarn  had  been  spun  and  woven  under  one  roof.  Now  that  the  jenny  as  well  as 
the  loom  required  a strong  hand,  men  began  to  spin,  and  whole  families  lived 
by  spinning,  while  others  laid  the  antiquated,  superseded  spinning-wheel  aside; 
and,  if  they  had  not  means  of  purchasing  a jenny,  were  forced  to  live  upon  the 
wages  of  the  father  alone.  Thus  began  with  spinning  and  weaving  that  division 
of  labor  which  has  since  been  so  infinitely  perfected. 

While  the  industrial  Proletariat  was  thus  developing  with  the  first  still  very 
imperfect  machine,  the  same  machine  gave  rise  to  the  agricultural  Proletariat. 
There  had,  hitherto,  been  a vast  number  of  small  land  owners;  yeomen,  who 
had  vegetated  in  the  same  unthinking  quiet  as  their  neighbors,  the  farming 
weavers.  They  cultivated  their  scraps  of  land  quite  after  the  ancient  and  in- 
efficient  fashion  of  their  ancestors,  and  opposed  every  change  with  the  obstinacy 
peculiar  to  such  creatures  of  habit,  after  remaining  stationary  from  generation 
to  generation.  Among  them  were  many  small  holders  also,  not  tenants  in  the 
present  sense  of  the  word,  but  people  who  had  their  land  handed  down  from 
their  fathers,  either  by  hereditary  lease,  or  by  force  of  ancient  custom,  and  had 
hitherto  held  it  as  securely  as  if  it  had  actually  been  their  own  property.  When 
the  industrial  workers  withdrew  from  agriculture,  a great  number  of  small  hold- 


/ 


6 


ings  feil  idle,  and  upon  these  the  new  dass  of  large  tenants  established  them- 
selves,  tenants-at-will,  Holding  fifty,  one  hundred,  two  hundred  or  more  acres, 
liable  to  be  turned  out  at  the  end  of  the  year,  but  able  by  improved  tillage  and 
larger  farming  to  increase  the  yield  of  the  land.  They  could  seil  their  produce 
more  cheaply  than  the  yeoman,  for  whom  nothing  remained  when  his  farm  no 
longer  supported  him  but  to  seil  it.  procure  a jenny  or  a loom,  or  take  Service 
as  an  agricultural  laborer  in  the  employ  of  a large  farmer.  His  inherited  slow- 
ness  and  the  inefficient  methods  of  cultivation  bequeathed  by  his  ancestors  and 
above  which  he  could  not  rise,  left  him  no  alternative  when  forced  to  compete 
with  men  who  managed  their  Holdings  on  sounder  principles  and  with  all  the 
advantages  bestowed  by  farming  on  a large  scale  and  the  Investment  of  Capital 
for  the  improvement  of  the  soil. 

Meanwhile,  the  industrial  movement  did  not  stop  here.  Single  capitalists 
began  to  set  up  spinning  jennies  in  great  buildings  and  to  use  water-power  for 
driving  them,  so  placing  themselves  in  a position  to  diminish  the  number  of 
workers,  and  seil  their  yarn  more  cheaply  than  single  Spinners  could  do  who 
moved  their  own  machines  by  hand.  There  were  constant  improvements  in 
the  jenny,  so  that  machines  continually  became  antiquated  and  must  be  altered 
or  even  laid  aside;  and  though  the  capitalist  could  hold  out  by  the  application 
of  water-power  even  with  the  old  machinery,  for  the  single  Spinner  this  was  im- 
possible.  And  the  factory  System,  the  beginning  of  which  was  thus  made,  re- 
ceived  a fresh  extension  in  1767,  through  the  spinning  throstle  invented  by 
Richard  Arkwright,  a barber,  in  Preston,  in  North  Lancashire.  After  the 
steam-engine,  this  is  the  most  important  mechanical  invention  of  the  i8th 
Century.  It  was  calculated  from  the  beginning  for  mechanical  motive  power, 
and  was  based  upon  wholly  new  principles.  By  the  combination  of  the 
peculiarities  of  the  jenny  and  throstle,  Samuel  Crcmpton,  of  Firwood,  Lan- 
cashire, contrived  the  mule  in  1785,  and  as  Arkwright  invented  the  carding 
engine,  and  preparatory  (“  slubbing  and  roving”)  frames  about  the  same  tirne, 
the  factory  System  became  the  prevailing  one  for  the  spinning  of  cotton.  By 
means  of  trifling  modifications  these  machines  were  gradually  adapted  to  the 
spinning  of  flax,  and  so  to  the  superseding  of  handwork  here,  too.  Bat  even 
then,  the  end  was  not  yet.  In  the  closing  years  of  the  last  Century,  Dr.  Cart- 
wright,  a country  parson,  had  invented  the  power  loom,  and  about  1804  had  so 
far  perfected  it,  that  it  could  successfully  compete  with  the  hand-weaver;  and 
all  this  machinery  was  made  doubly  important  by  James  Watts’  steam-engine, 
invented  in  1764,  and  used  for  supplying  motive  power  for  spinning  since  1785. 

With  these  inventions,  since  improved  from  year  to  year,  the  victory  of 
machine-work  over  hand-work  in  the  chief  branches  of  English  industry  was 
won;  and  the  history  of  the  latter  from  that  time  forward  simply  relates  how  the 
hand-workers  have  been  driven  by  machinery  from  one  position  after  another. 
The  consequences  of  this  were  on  the  one  hand  a rapid  fall  in  price  of  all  manu- 
factured  Commodities,  prosperity  of  commerce  and  manufacture,  the  conquest  of 
nearly  all  the  unprotected  foreign  markets,  the  sudden  multiplication  of  Capital 
and  national  wealth;  on  the  other  hand,  a still  more  rapid  multiplication  of  the 


7 


Proletariat,  the  destruction  of  all  property  holding  and  of  all  security  of  employ- 
ment  for  the  working  dass,  demoralization,  political  excitement,  and  all  those 
facts  so  highly  repugnant  to  Englishmen  in  comfortable  circumstances,  which 
we  shall  have  to  consider  in  the  following  pages.  Having  already  seen  what  a 
transformation  in  the  social  condition  of  the  lower  classes  a single  such  clumsy 
machine  as  the  jenny  had  wrought,  there  is  no  cause  for  surprise  as  to  that  which 
a complete  and  interdependent  System  of  finely  adjusted  machinery  has  brought 
about,  machinery  which  receives  raw  material  and  turns  out  woven  goods. 

Meanwhile,  let  us  trace  the  development  of  English  manufacture*  somewhat 
more  minutely,  beginning  with  the  cotton  industry.  In  the  years  1771-1775, 
there  were  annually  imported  into  England  rather  less  than  5,000,000  pounds  of 
raw  cotton;  in  the  year  1841  there  were  imported  528,000,000  pounds,  and  the 
import  for  1844  will  reach  at  least  600,000,000  pounds.  In  1834  England  ex- 
ported  556,000,000  yards  of  woven  cotton  goods,  76,500,000  pounds  of  cotton 
yarn,  and  cotton  hosiery  of  the  value  of  200,000.  In  the  same  year  over 
8,000,000  mule  spindles  were  at  work,  110,000  power  and  250,000  handlooms, 
throstle  spindles  not  included,  in  the  Service  of  he  cotton  industry;  and,  accord- 
ing  to  Mac  Culloch’s  reckoning,  nearly  a million  and  a half  human  beings  were 
supported  by  this  branch,  of  whom  but  220,000  worked  in  the  mills;  the  power 
used  in  these  mills  was  steam,  equivalent  to  33,000  horse-power,  and  water, 
equivalent  to  11,000  horse-power.  At  present  these  figures  are  far  from 
adequate,  and  it  may  be  safely  assumed  that,  in  the  year  1845,  the  power  and 
number  of  the  machines  and  the  number  of  the  workers  is  greater  by  one-half 
than  it  was  in  1834.  The  chief  center  of  this  industry  is  Lancashire,  where  it 
originated;  it  has  thoroughly  revolutionized  this  county,  Converting  it  from  an 
obscure,  ill-cultivated  swamp  into  a busy,  lively  region,  multiplying  its  popula- 
tion  tenfold  in  eighty  years,  and  causing  giant  cities  such  as  Liverpool  and 
Manchester,  containing  together  700,000  inhabitants,  and  their  neighboring 
towns,  Bolton  with  60,000,  Rochdale  with  75,000,  Oldham  with  50,000,  Preston 
with  60,000,  Ashton  and  Nelybridge  with  40,000,  and  a whole  list  of  other 
manufacturing  towns  to  spring  up  as  if  by  a magic  touch.  The  history  of  South 
Lancashire  contains  some  of  the  greatest  marvels  of  modern  times,  yet  no  one 
ever  mentions  ihem,  and  all  these  miracles  are  the  product  of  the  cotton  industiy. 
Glasgow,  too,  the  center  for  the  cotton  district  of  Scotland,  for  Lanarkshire  and 
Renfrewshire,  has  increased  in  population  from  30,000  to  300,000  since  the  in- 
troduction  of  the  industry.  The  hosiery  manufacture  of  Nottingham  and  Derby 
also  received  one  fresh  impulse  from  the  lower  price  of  yarn,  and  a second  one 
from  an  improvement  of  the  stocking  loom,  by  means  of  which  two  stockings 
could  be  woven  at  once.  The  manufacture  of  lace,  too,  became  an  important 
branch  of  industry  after  the  invention  of  the  lace  machine  in  1777;  soon  after 
that  date  Lindley  invented  the  point  net  machine,  and  in  i8og  Heathcote  in- 
vented  the  bobbin-net  machine,  in  consequence  of  which  the  production  of  lace 
was  greatly  simplified,  and  the  demand  increased  proportionately  in  consequence 

* Accordin^  to  Porter^s  Progress  of  the  Nation,  London,  1836,  Vol.  I,  1838,  Vol.  II,  1843,  Vol. 
III,  (official  date),  and  other  sources  chiefly  official. 


8 


of  the  diminished  cost,  so  that  now,  at  least  two  hundred  thousand  persons  are 
supported  by  this  industry.  Its  chief  centers  are  Nottingham,  Leicester,  and  the 
West  of  England,  Wiltshire,  Devonshire,  etc.  A corresponding  extension  has 
taken  place  in  the  branches  dependent  upon  the  cotton  industry,  in  dyeing,  bleach- 
ing,  and  printing.  Bleaching  made  by  the  application  of  chlorine  in  place  of  the 
oxygen  of  the  atmosphere;  dyeing  and  printing  by  the  rapid  development  of 
Chemistry,  and  printing  by  a series  of  most  brilliant  mechanical  inventions,  a 
yet  greater  advance  which,  with  the  extension  of  these  branches  caused  by  the 
growth  of  the  cotton  industry,  raised  them  to  a previously  unknown  degree  of 
prosperity. 

The  same  activity  manifested  itself  in  the  manufacture  of  wool.  This  had 
hitherto  been  the  leading  department  of  English  industry,  but  the  quantities 
formerly  produced  are  as  nothing  in  comparison  with  that  which  is  now  manu- 
factured.  In  1782  the  whole  wool  crop  of  the  preceding  three  years  lay  unused 
for  want  of  workers,  and  would  have  continued  so  to  lie  if  the  newly  invented 
machinery  had  not  come  to  its  assistance  and  spun  it.  The  adaptation  of  this 
machinery  to  the  spinning  of  wool  was  most  successfully  accomplished.  Then 
began  the  same  sudden  development  in  the  wool  di§trict,  which  we  have  already 
seen  in  the  cotton  districts.  In  1738  there  were  75,000  pieces  of  woollen  cloth 
produced  in  the  West  Riding  of  Yorkshire;  in  1817  there  were  490,000  pieces, 
and  so  rapid  was  the  extension  of  the  industry  that  in  1834,  450,000  more  pieces 
were  produced  than  in  1825.  In  1801,  101,000,000  pounds  of  wool  (7,000,000 
pounds  of  it  imported)  were  worked  up;  in  1835,  180,000,000  pounds  were 
worked  up,  of  which  42,000,000  pounds  were  imported.  The  principle  center 
of  this  industry  is  the  West  Riding  of  Yorkshire  where,  especially  at  Bradford, 
long  English  wool  is  converted  into  worsted  yarns,  etc.,  while  in  the  other  cities, 
Leeds,  Halifax,  Huddersfield,  etc.,  short  wool  is  converted  into  hard  spun  yam 
and  cloth.  Then  come  the  adjacent  part  of  Lancashire,  the  region  of  Rochdale, 
where  in  addition  to  the  cotton  industry  much  flannel  is  produced,  and  the  West 
of  England  which  supplies  the  finest  cloths.  Here  also  the  growth  of  popula- 
tion  is  worthy  of  Observation : 

Bradford  contained  in  1801  29,000,  and  in  1831  77,000  inhabitants. 

Halifax  “ “ “ 63,000,  “ “ “ 110,000  “ 


<< 


Huddersfield 

Leeds 


( i 


34,000 

123,000 


( ( 


And  the  whole  West  Riding  “ 564,000,  “ “ 980,000  “ 

A population,  which  since  1831,  must  have  increased  at  least  20-25  per  Cent, 
further.  In  1835  the  spinning  of  wool  employed  in  the  United  Kingdom  1,313 
mills,  with  71,300  workers,  these  last  being  but  a small  portion  of  the  multitude 
who  are  supported  directly  or  indirectly  by  the  manufacture  of  wool,  and  ex- 
cluding  nearly  all  weavers. 

Progress  in  the  linen  trade  developed  later,  because  the  nature  of  the  raw  ma- 
terial made  the  application  of  spinning  machinery  very  difficult.  Attempts  had 
been  made  in  the  last  years  of  the  last  Century  in  Scotland,  but  the  Frenchman, 
Girard,  who  introduced  flax  spinning  in  1810,  was  the  firsr  who  succeeded  prac- 


9 


tioally,  and  even  Girard’s  machinery  first  attained  on  British  soil  the  importance 
they  deserved  by  means  of  improvements  which  they  underwent  in  England, 
and  of  their  universal  application  in  Leeds,  Dundee  and  Belfast.  From  this 
time  the  British  linen  trade  rapidly  extended.  In  1814,  3,000  tons  of  flax  were 
imported;  in  1833  nearly  19,000  tons  of  flax  and  3,400  tons  of  hemp.  The  ex- 
port  of  Irish  linen  to  Great  Britain  rose  from  32,000,000  yards  in  1800  to 

53.000. 000  in  1825,  of  which  a large  part  was  re-exported.  The  export  of 
English  and  Scotch  woven  linen  goods  rose  from  24.000,000  yards  in  1820  to 

51.000. 000  yards  in  1833.  The  number  of  flax  spinning  establishments  in  1835 
was  347  employing  33,000  workers,  of  which  one-half  were  in  the  South  of 
Scotland,  more  than  60  in  the  West  Riding  of  Yorkshire,  Leeds  and  its  en- 
virons,  25  in  Belfast,  Ireland,  and  the  rest  in  Dorset  and  Lancashire.  Weaving 
is  carried  on  in  the  South  of  Scotland,  here  and  there  in  England,  but  princi- 
pally  in  Ireland. 

With  like  success  did  the  English  turn  their  attention  to  the  manufacture  of 
silk.  Raw  material  was  imported  from  Southern  Europe  and  Asia  ready  spun, 
and  the  chief  labor  lay  in  the  twisting  of  fine  threads.  Until  1824  the  heavy 
import  duty,  four  Shillings  per  pound  on  raw  material,  greatly  retarded  the  de- 
velopment of  the  English  silk  industry,  while  only  the  markets  of  England  and 
the  colonies  were  protected  for  it.  In  that  year  the  duty  was  reduced  to  one 
penny,  and  the  number  of  mills  at  once  largely  increased.  In  a single  year  the 
number  of  throwing  spindles  rose  from  780,000  to  1,180,000;  and,  although  the 
Qomrnercial  crisis  of  1825  crippled  this  branch  of  industry  for  the  moment,  yet 
in  1827  more  was  produced  than  ever,  the  mechanical  skill  and  experience  of  the 
English  having  secured  their  twisting  machinery  the  supremacy  over  the  awk- 
ward  devices  of  their  competitors.  In  1835  the  British  Empire  possessed  263 
twisting  mills,  employing  30,000  workers,  located  chiefly  in  Cheshire,  in  Mac- 
clesfield,  Congleton,  and  the  surrounding  districts,  and  in  Manchester  and  Som- 
ersetshire.  Besides  these,  there  are  numerous  mills  for  working  up  waste,  from 
which  a peculiar  article  known  as  spun  silk  is  manufactuied,  with  which  the 
English  supply  even  the  Paris  and  Lyons  weavers.  The  weaving  of  the  silk  so 
twisted  and  spun  is  carried  on  in  Paisley  and  elsewhere  in  Scotland,  and  in 
Spitalfields,  London,  but  also  in  Manchester  and  elsewhere.  Nor  is  the  gigan- 
tic  advance  achieved  in  English  manufacture  since  1760  restricted  to  the  pro- 
duction  of  clothing  materials.  The  Impulse,  once  given,  was  communicated  to 
all  branches  of  industrial  activity,  and  a multitude  of  inventions  wholly  unrelated 
to  those  here  cited,  received  double  importance  from  the  fact  that  they  were 
made  in  the  midst  of  the  universal  movement.  But  as  soon  as  the  immeasur- 
able  importance  of  mechanical  power  was  practically  demonstrated,  every  energy 
was  concentrated  in  the  effort  to  exploit  this  power  in  all  directions,  and  to  ex- 
ploit  it  in  the  interest  of  individual  inventors  and  manufacturers;  and  the  demand 
for  machinery,  fuel  and  materials  called  a mass  of  workers  and  a number  of 
trades  into  redoubled  activity.  The  steam-engine  first  gave  importance  to  the 
broad  coal  fields  of  England;  the  production  of  machinery  began  now  for  the 
first  time,  and  with  it  arose  a new  interest  in  the  iron  niines  which  supplied 


10 


raw  material  for  it.  The  increased  consumption  of  wool  stimulated  English 
sheep  breeding,  and  the  growing  importation  of  wool,  flax  and  silk  called  forth 
an  extension  of  the  British  ocean  carrying  trade.  Greatest  of  all  was  the  growth 
of  production  of  iron.  The  rieh  iron  deposits  of  the  English  hills  had  hitherto 
been  little  developed;  iron  had  always  been  smelted  by  means  of  charcoal, 
which  became  gradually  more  expensive  as  agriculture  improved  and  forests 
were  cut  away*  The  beginning  of  the  use  of  coke  in  iron  smelting  had  been 
made  in  the  last  Century,  and  in  1780  a new  method  was  invented  of  converting 
into  available  wrought-iron  coke-smelted  iron,  which  up  to  that  time  had  been 
convertible  into  cast-iron  only.  This  process,  known  as  “puddling,”  consists  in 
withdrawing  the  carbon  which  had  mixed  with  the  iron  durin g the  process  of 
smelting,  and  opened  a wholly  new  field  for  the  production  of  English  iron. 
Smelting  furnaces  were  built  fifty  times  larger  than  before,  the  process  of  smelt- 
ing was  simplified  by  the  introduction  of  hot  blasts,  and  iron  could  thas  be  pro- 
duced  so  cheaply  that  a multitude  of  objects  which  had  before  been  made  of 
stone  or  wood  were  now  made  of  iron. 

In  1788,  Thomas  Paine,  the  famous  Democrat,  built  in  Yorkshire  the  first 
iron  bridge,  which  was  followed  by  a great  number  of  others,  so  that  now  nearly 
all  bridges,  especially  for  railroad  traffic,  are  built  of  cast-iron,  while  in  London 
itself  a bridge  across  the  Thames,  the  Southwark  bridge,  has  been  built  of  this 
material.  Iron  pillars,  supports  for  machinery,  etc.,  are  universally  used,  and 
since  the  introduction  of  gas-lighting  and  railroads,  new  outlets  for  English  iron 
Products  are  opened.  Nails  and  screws  gradually  came  to  be  made  by  machin- 
ery. Huntsman,  a Sheffielder,  discovered  in  1790  a method  for  casting  steel, 
by  which  much  labor  was  saved,  and  the  production  of  wholly  new  cheap  goods 
rendered  practicable;  and  through  the  greater  purity  of  the  material  placed  at  its 
disposal,  and  the  more  perfect  tools,  new  machinery  and  minute  division  of  labor, 
the  metal  trade  of  England  now  first  attained  importance.  The  population  of 
Birmingham  grew  from  73,000  in  1801  to  200,000  in  1844;  that  of  Sheffield 
from  46,000  in  1801  to  110,000  in  1844,  and  the  consumption  of  coal  in  the 
latter  city  alone  reached  in  1836,  515,000  tons.  In  1805  there  were  exported 
4,300  tons  of  iron  products  and  4,600  tons  of  pig-iron;  in  1834,  16,200  tons  of 
iron  products  and  107,000  tons  of  pig-iron,  while  the  whole  iron  product  reach- 
•jig  in  1740  but  17,000  tons,  had  risen  in  1834  to  nearly  700,000  tons.  The 
smelting  of  pig-iron  alone  consumes  yearly  more  than  3,000,000  tons  of  coal, 
and  the  importance  which  coal  mining  has  attained  in  the  course  of  the  last  60 
years  can  scarcely  be  conceived.  All  the  English  and  Scotch  deposits  are  now 
worked,  and  the  mines  of  Northumberland  and  Durham  alone  yield  annually 
more  than  5,000,000  tons  for  shipping,  and  employ  from  40  to  50,000  men. 
According  to  the  Durham  Chronicle^  there  were  worked  in  these  two  counties; 
In  1753,  14  mines;  in  1800,  40  mines;  in  1836,  76  mines;  in  1843,  130  mines. 
Moreover,  all  mines  are  now  much  more  energetically  worked  than  formerly. 
A similarly  increased  activity  was  applied  to  the  working  of  tin,  copper  and  lead, 
and  alongside  of  the  extension  of  glass  manufacture  arose  a new  branch  of  in- 
dustry  in  the  production  of  pottery,  rendered  important  by  the  efforts  of  Josiah 


II 


Wedgewood,  about  1763.  This  inventor  placed  the  whole  manufacture  of  stone- 
ware  on  a scientific  basis,  introduced  better  taste,  and  founded  the  potteries  of 
North  Staffordshire,  a district  of  eight  English  miles  square,  which,  formerly,  a » 
desert  waste,  is  now  sown  with  works  and  dwellings,  and  Supports  more  than 
60,000  people. 

Into  this  universal  whirl  of  activity  everything  was  drawn.  Agriculture  made 
a corresponding  advance.  Not  only  did  landed  property  pass,  as  we  have 
already  seen,  into  the  hands  of  new  owners  and  cultivators,  agriculture  was 
affected  in  still  another  way.  The  great  holders  applied  Capital  to  the  improve- 
ment  of  the  soll,  tore  down  needless  fences,  drained,  manured,  employed  better 
tools  and  applied  a rotation  of  crops.  The  progress  of  Science  came  to  their 
assistance  also;  Sir  Humphrey  Davy  applied  chemistry  to  agriculture  with  suc- 
cess,  and  the  development  of  mechanical  Science  bestowed  a multitude  of  ad- 
vantages  upon  the  large  farmer.  Further,  in  consequence  of  the  increase  of 
Population,  the  demand  for  agricultural  products  increased  in  such  measure  that 
from  1760  to  1834,  6,840,540  acres  of  waste  land  were  reclaimed;  and,  in  spite 
of  this,  England  was  transformed  from  a grain  exporting  to  a grain  importing 
country. 

The  same  activity  was  developed  in  the  establishment  of  communication. 
From  1818  to  182g,  there  were  built  in  England  and  Wales  1,000  English  miles 
of  roadway  of  the  width  prescribed  by  law,  60  feet,  and  nearly  all  the  old  roads 
were  reconstructed  on  the  new  System  of  McAdam.  In  Scotland,  the  Department 
of  Public  Works  built  since  1803,  nearly  goo  miles  of  roadway  and  more  than  1,000 
bridges,  by  which  the  population  of  the  Highlands  was  suddenly  placed  within 
reach  of  civilzation.  The  Highlanders  had  hitherto  been  chiefly  poachers  and 
smugglers;  they  now  became  farmers  and  hand-workers.  And,  though  Gaelic 
schools  were  organized  for  the  purpose  of  maintaining  the  Gaelic  language,  yet 
Gaelic-Celtic  customs  and  speech  are  rapidly  vanishing  before  the  approach  of 
English  civilization.  So,  too,  in  Ireland;  between  the  counties  of  Cork,  Limer- 
ick and  Kerry,  lay  hitherto  a wilderness  wholly  without  passable  roads,  and 
serving  by  reason  of  its  inaccessibility  as  the  refuge  of  all  criminals  and  the 
chief  protection  of  the  Celtic  Irish  nationality  in  the  South  of  Ireland.  It  has 
now  been  cut  through  by  public  roads,  and  civilization  has  thus  gained  admis- 
sion  even  to  this  savage  region.  The  whole  British  Empire,  and  especially  Eng- 
land, which,  sixty  years  ago,  had  as  bad  roads  as  Germany  or  France  then  had 
is  now  covered  by  a network  of  the  finest  roadways;  and  these,  too,  like  almost, 
everything  eise  in  England,  are  the  work  of  private  enterprise,  the  State  having 
done  very  little  in  this  direction. 

Before  1755  England  possessed  almost  no  canals.  In  that  year  a canal  was 
built  in  Lancashire  from  Sankey  Brook  to  St.  Helen’s;  and  in  175g,  James 
Brindley  built  the  first  important  one,  the  Duke  of  Bridgewater’s  canal  from 
Manchester,  and  the  coal  mines  of  the  district  to  the  mouth  of  the  Mersey  pass- 
ing,  near  Barton,  by  aqueduct,  over  the  river  Irwell.  From  this  achievement 
dates  the  canal  building  of  England,  to  which  Brindley  first  gave  importance. 
Canals  were  now  built,  and  rivers  made  navigable  in  all  directions.  In  England 


12 


alone,  there  are  2,200  miks  of  canals  and  1,800  miles  of  navigable  river.  In 
Scotland,  Ihe  Caledonian  Canal  was  cut  directly  across  the  country;  and  in 
Ireland  several  canals  were  built.  These  inprovements,  too,  like  the  railroads  and 
roadways,  are  nearly  all  the  work  of  private  individuals  and  Companies. 

The  railroads  have  been  only  lecently  built.  The  first  great  one  was  opened 
from  Liverpool  to  Manchester  in  1830,  since  which  all  the  great  eitles 
have  been  connected  by  rail.  London  with  Southampton,  Brighton,  Dover, 
Colchester,  Exeter  and  Birmingham;  Birmingham  with  Gloucester,  Liverpool, 
Lancaster  (via  Newton  and  Wigan,  and  via  Manchester  and  Bolton);  also  with 
Leeds  (via  Manchester  and  Halifax,  and  via  Leicester,  Derby  and  Sheffield); 
Leeds  with  Hüll  and  Newcastle  (via  York).  There  are  also  many  minor  lines 
building  or  projected,  which  will  soon  make  it  possible  to  travel  from  Edinburg 
to  London  in  one  day. 

As  it  had  transformed  the  means  of  communication  by  land,  so  did  the  intro- 
duction  of  steam  revolutionize  travel  by  sea.  The  first  steamboat  was  launched 
in  1807,  in  the  Hudson,  in  North  America;  the  first  in  the  British  Empire,  in 
1811,  011  the  Clyde.  Since  then,  more  than  600  have  been  built  in  England; 
and  in  1836  more  than  500  were  plying  to  and  from  British  ports. 

Such,  in  brief,  is  the  history  of  English  industrial  development  in  the  past  sixty 
years,  a history  which  has  no  counterpart  in  the  annals  of  humanity.  Sixty, 
eighty  years  ago,  England  was  a country  like  every  other,  with  small  towns, 
few  and  simple  Industries,  and  a thin  but  propo7’tionally  large  agricultural  popu- 
lation.  To-day,  it  is  a country  like  no  other,  with  a Capital  of  two  and  a half 
million  inhabitants;  with  vast  manufacturing  cities;  with  an  industry  that  sup- 
pilies  the  world,  and  produces  almost  everything  by  means  of  the  most  complex 
machinery;  with  an  industrious,  intelligent,  dense  population,  of  which  two- 
thirds  are  employed  in  trade  and  commerce,  and  composed  of  classes  wholly 
different;  forming,  in  fact,  with  other  customs  and  other  needs,  a different 
nation  from  the  England  of  those  days.  The  industrial  revolution  is  of  the 
same  importance  for  England  as  the  political  revolution  for  France,  and  the 
philosophical  revolution  for  Germany;  and  the  difference  between  England  in 
1760  and  in  1844  is  at  least  as  great  as  that  between  France,  under  the  ancien 
regime,  and  during  the  revolution  of  July.  But  the  mightiest  result  of  this  in- 
dustrial transformation  is  the  English  Proletariat. 

We  have  already  seen  how  the  Proletariat  was  called  into  existence  by  the  in- 
troduction  of  machinery.  The  rapid  extension  of  manufacture  demanded 
hands,  wages  rose,  and  troops  of  workmen  migrated  from  the  agricultural  dis- 
tricts  to  the  cities.  Population  multiplied  enormously,  and  nearly  all  the  in- 
crease  took  place  in  the  Proletariat.  Further,  Ireland  had  entered  upon  an 
orderly  development  only  since  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  Century.  There, 
too,  the  population,  more  than  decimated  by  English  cruelty  in  earlier  dis- 
turbances,  now  rapidly  multiplied,  especially  after  the  advance  in  manufacture 
began  to  draw  masses  of  Irishmen  towards  England.  Thus  arose  the  great 
manufacturing  and  commercial  cities  of  the  British  Empire,  in  which  at  least 
three-fourths  of  the  population  belong  to  the  working  dass,  while  the  lower 


middle  dass  consists  only  of  small  shop-keepers,  and  very,  very  few  handicrafts- 
men.  For,  though  the  rising  manufacture  first  attained  importance  by  transform- 
ing  tools  into  machines,  work-rooms  into  factories,  and  consequently,  the  toiling, 
lower  middle  dass  into  the  toiling  Proletariat,  and  the  former  large  merchants 
into  manufacturers,  though  the  lower  middle  dass  was  thus  early  crushed  out,  and 
the  population  reduced  to  the  two  opposing  elements,  workers  and  capitalists, 
this  happened  outside  of  the  domain  of  manufacture  proper,  in  the  province  of 
handicraft  and  retail  trade  as  well.  In  the  place  of  the  former  masters  and  ap- 
prentices,  came  great  capitalists  and  workingmen  who  had  no  prospect  of  rising 
above  their  dass.  Hand-work  was  carried  on  after  the  fashion  of  factory  work, 
the  division  of  labor  was  strictly  applied,  and  small  employers,  who  could  not 
compete  with  great  establishments,  were  forced  down  into  the  Proletariat.  At 
the  same  time  the  destruction  of  the  former  Organization  of  hand-work,  and  the 
disappearance  of  the  lower  middle  dass  deprived  the  workingman  of  all  possi- 
bility  of  rising  into  the  middle  dass  himself.  Hitherto  he  had  always  had  the 
prospect  of  establishing  himself  somewhere  as  master  artificer,  perhaps  em- 
ploying  journeymen  and  apprentices;  but  now,  when  master  artificers  were 
crowded  out  by  manufacturers,  when  large  Capital  had  become  necessary  for  car- 
rying  on  work  independently,  the  working  dass  became,  for  the  first  time,  an 
integral,  permanent  dass  of  the  population,  whereas  it  had  formerly  often  been 
merely  a transition  leading  to  the  bourgeoisie.  Now  he  who  was  bo.rn  to  toil, 
had  no  other  prospect  than  that  of  remaining  a toiler  all  his  life.  Now,  for  the 
first  time,  therefore,  the  Proletariat  was  in  a position  to  undertake  an  inde- 
pendent movement. 

In  this  way  were  brought  together  those  vast  masses  of  workingmen  who 
iiow  fill  the  whole  British  Empire,  whose  social  condition  forces  itself  every  day 
more  and  more  upon  the  attention  of  the  civilized  world.  The  condition  of  the 
working  dass  is  the  condition  of  the  vast  majority  of  the  English  people.  The 
question:  What  is  to  become  of  these  destitute  millions,  who  consume  to-day 
what  they  earned  yesterday;  who  have  created  the  greatness  of  England  by  their 
inventions  and  their  toil;  who  become  with  every  passing  day  more  conscious 
of  their  might,  and  demand,  with  daily  increasing  urgency,  their  share  of  the 
advantages  of  society? — This,  since  the  Reform  Bill,  has  become  the  national 
question.  All  Parlj^mentary  debates,  of  any  importance,  may  be  reduced  to 
this;  and,  though  the  English  middle  dass  will  not  as  yet  admit  it,  though  they 
try  to  evade  this  great  question,  and  to  represent  their  own  particular  interests 
as  the  truly  national  ones,  their  action  is  utterly  useless.  With  every  session  of 
Parliament  the  working  dass  gains  ground,  the  interests  of  the  middle  dass 
diminish  in  importance;  and,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  middle  dass  is  the 
chief,  in  fact,  the  only  power  in  Parliament,  the  last  session  of  1844  was  a 
continuous  debate  upon  subjects  affecting  the  working  dass,  the  Poor  Relief 
Bill,  the  Factory  Act,  the  Masters’  and  Servants’  Act;  and  Thomas  Duncombe, 
the  representative  of  the  workingmen  in  the  Ilouse  of  Commons,  was  the  great 
man  of  the  session,  while  the  Liberal  middle  dass  with  its  motion  for  repealing 
the  Corn  Laws,  and  the  Radical  middle  dass  with  its  resolution  for  refusing 


the  taxes,  played  pitiable  röles.  Even  the  debates  about  Ireland  were  at  bot- 
tom  debates  about  the  Irish  Proletariat,  and  the  mtans  of  coming  to  its  assist- 
ance.  It  is  high  time,  too,  for  the  English  middle  dass  to  make  some  conces- 
sions  to  the  workingmen  who  no  longcr  plead  but  threaten;  for  in  a short  time 
it  may  be  too  late. 

In  spite  of  all  this,  the  English  middle  dass,  espedally  the  manufacturing 
dass,  which  is  enriched  directly  by  means  of  the  poverty  of  the  workers,  per- 
sists  in  ignoring  this  poverty.  This  dass,  feeling  itself  the  mighty  representative 
dass  of  the  nation,  is  ashamed  to  lay  the  sore  spot  of  England  bare  before  the 
eyes  of  the  world;  will  not  confess,  even  to  itself,  that  the  workers  are  in  dis- 
tress, because  it,  the  property  holding,  manufacturing  dass,  must  bear  the 
moral  responsibility  for  this  distress.j  Hence  the  scornful  smile  with  which  in- 
telligent Englishmen,'(änd  they,  the  middle  dass,  alone  are  known  on  the  con- 
tinent)7  assume  when  any  one  begins  to  speak  of  the  condition  of  the  working 
dass;  hence  the  utter  ignorance  on  the  part  of  the  whole  middle  dass  of  every- 
thing  which  concerns  the  workers;  hence  the  ridiculous  blunders  which  men  of 
this  dass,  in  and  out  of  Parliament,  make  when  the  position  of  the  Proletariat 
comes  under  discussion;  hence  the  absurd  freedom  from  anxiety,  with  which 
the  middle  dass  dwells  upon  a soil  that  is  honeycombed,  and  may  any  day  col- 
lapse,  the  speedy  collapse  of  which  is  as  certain  as  a mathematical  or  mechanical 
demonstration;  hence  the  miracle  that  the  English  have  as  yet  no  single  book 
upon  the  condition  of  their  workers,  although  they  have  been  examining  and 
mending  the  old  state  of  things  no  one  knows  how  many  years.  Hence  also 
Tlie  deep  wrath  of  the  whole  working  dass  from  Glasgow  to  London,  against 
the  rieh,  by  whom  they  are  systematically  plundered  and  mercilessly  left  to 
their  fate,  a wrath  which  before  too  long  a time  goes  by,  a time  almost  within 
the  power  of  man  to  predict,  must  break  out  into  a revolution  in  comparison 
with  which  the  French  revolution,  and  the  year  '94  will  prove  to  have  been 
cbild’s  play. 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  PROLETARIAT. 

The  Order  of  our  investigation  of  the  different  sections  of  the  Proletariat 
follows  naturally  from  the  foregoing  history  of  its  rise.  The  first  proletarians 
were  connected  with  manufacture,  were  engendered  by  it,  and  accordingly, 
those  employed  in  manufacture,  in  the  working  up  of  raw  materials  will  first 
Claim  our  attention.  The  production  of  raw  materials  and  of  fuel  for  manufac- 
ture attained  importance  only  in  consequence  of  the  industrial  change,  and  en- 
gendered a new  proletaria-t,  the  coal  and  metal  miners.  Then,  in  the  third 
place,  manufacture  influenced  agriculture,  and  in  the  fourth,  the  condition  of 
Ireland  ; and  the  fractions  of  the  Proletariat  belonging  to  each,  will  find  their 
place  accordingly.  We  shall  find,  too,  that  with  the  possible  exception  of  the 
Irish,  the  degree  of  intelligence  of  the  various  workers  is  in  direct  proportion 
to  their  relation  to  manufacture  ; and  that  the  factory  hands  aremost  enlightened 
as  to  their  own  interests,  the  miners  somewhat  less  so,  the  agricultural  laborers 
scarcely  at  all.  We  shall  find  the  same  order  again  among  the  industrial 
workers,  and  shall  see  how  the  factory  hands,  eldest  children  of  the  industrial 
revolution,  have  from  the  beginning  to  the  present  day  formed  the  nucleus  of 
the  Labor  Movement,  and  how  the  others  have  joined  this  movement  just  in 
Proportion  as  their  handicraft  has  been  invaded  by  the  progress  of  machinery. 
We  shall  thus  learn  from  the  example  which  England  offers,  from  the  equal  pace 
which  the  Labor  Movement  has  kept  with  the  movement  of  industrial  develop- 
ment, the  historical  significance  of  manufacture. 

Since,  however,  at  the  present  moment,  pretty  much  the  whole  industrial  Pro- 
letariat is  involved  in  the  movement  and  the  condition  of  the  separate  sections 
has  much  in  common,  because  they  all  are  industrial,  we  shall  have  first  to  ex- 
amine  the  condition  of  the  industrial  Proletariat  as  a whole.  in  order  later  to 
notice  more  particularly  each  separate  division  with  its  own  peculiarities. 

It  has  been  already  suggested  that  manufacture  centralizes  property,  in  the 
hands  of  the  few.  It  requires  large  Capital  with  which  to  erect  the  colossal 
establishments  that  ruin  the  petty  trading  bourgeoisie  and  with  which  to  press 
into  its  Service  the  forces  of  Nature,  so  driving  thehand  laborof  the  independent 
workman  out  of  the  market.  The  division  of  labor,  the  application  of  water 
and  especially  steam,  and  the  application  of  machinery,  are  the  three  great  levers 
with  which  manufacture,  since  the  middle  of  the  last  Century,  has  been  busy 
putting  the  world  out  of  joint.  Manufacture,  on  a small  scale,  created  the  middle 
dass  ; on  a large  scale,  it  created  the  working  dass,  and  raised  the  elect  of  the 
middle  dass  to  the  throne,  but  only  to  overthrow  them  the  moresurely  when  the 
time  comes.  Meanwhile,  it  is  an  undenied  and  easily  explained  fact  that  the 


— i6  — 

numerous,  petty  middle  dass  of  the  “ gocd  old  times  ” has  been  annihilated  by 
manufacture,  and  resolved  into  rieh  capitalists  on  the  one  hahd  and  poor  workers 
on  the  üther.  i 

The  centralizing  tendency  of  manufacture  does  not^  however,  stop  here. 
Population  becomes  centralized  just  as  Capital  does  ; and,  very  naturally,  since 
the  human  being,  the  worker,  is  regarded  in  manufacture  simply  as  a piece  of 
Capital  for  the  use  of  which  the  manufacturer  pays  interest  under  the  name  of 
wages.  A manufacturing  establishment  requires  many  workers  employed  to- 
gether  in  a single  building,  living  near  each  other  and  forming  a village  of  them- 
selves  in  the  case  of  a good  sized  factory.  They  have  needs  for  satisfying 
which  other  people  are  necessary  ; handicraftsmen,  shoemakers,  tailors,  bakers, 
carpenters,  stonemasons  settle  at  hand.  The  inhabitants  of  the  village, 
especially  the  younger  generation  accustom  themselves  to  factory  work,  grow 
skillful  in  it,  and  when  the  first  mill  can  no  longer  employ  them  all,  wages  fall, 
and  the  Immigration  of  fresh  manufacturers  is  the  consequence.  So  the  village 
grows  into  a small  town,  and  the  small  town  into  a large  one.  The  greater  the 
town.  the  greater  its  advantages.  It  offers  roads,  railroads,  canals  ; the  choice 
of  skilled  labor  increases  constantly,  new  establishments  can  be  bullt  more 
cheaply  because  of  the  competition  among  builders  and  machinists  who  are  at 
hand,  than  in  remote  country  districts,  whither  timber,  machinery,  builders  and 
operatives  must  be  brought;  it  offers  a market  to  which  buyers  crowd  and  direct 
communication  with  the  markets  supplying  raw  material  or  demanding  finished 
goods.  Hence  the  marvellously  rapid  growth  of  the  great  manufacturing  towns, 
The  country,  on  the  other  hand,  has  the  advantage  that  wages  are  usually  lower 
than  in  town,  and  so  town  and  country  are  in  constant  competition;  and,  if  the 
advantage  is  on  the  side  of  the  town  to-day,  wages  sink  so  low  in  the  country 
to-morrow,  that  new  investments  are  most  profitably  made  there.  But  the 
centralizing  tendency  of  manufacture  continues  in  full  force,  and  every  new 
factory  built  in  the  country  bears  in  it  the  germ  of  a manufacturing  town.  If  it 
were  possible  for  this  mad  rush  of  manufacture  to  go  on  at  this  rate  for  another 
Century,  every  manufacturing  district  of  England  would  be  one  great  manufac- 
turing town,  and  Manchester  and  Liverpool  would  meet  at  Warrington  or  New- 
ton; for  in  commerce,  too,  this  centralization  of  the  population,  works  inprecise- 
ly  the  same  way,  and  hence  it  is  that  one  or  two  great  harbors,  such  as  Hüll 
and  Liverpool,  Bristol  and  London,  monopolize  alniost  the  whole  maritime 
commerce  of  Great  Britain. 

Since  commerce  and  manufacture  attain  their  most  complete  development  in 
these  great  towns,  their  influence  upon  the  Proletariat  is  also  most  clearly  ob- 
servable  here.  Here  the  centralization  of  property  has  reached  the  highest 
point ; here  the  morals  and  customs  of  the  good  old  times  are  most  completely 
obliterated  ; here  it  has  gone  so  far  that  the  name  Merry  Old  England  conveys 
no  meaning,  for  Old  England  itself  is  unknown  to  memory  and  to  the  tales  of 
our  grandfathers.  Hence,  too,  there  exist  here  only  a rieh  and  a poor  dass,  for 

l)  Compare  on  this  point  my  “ Outlines  for  a Critique  of  Political  Econpmy  in  the  Dcutsch- 
JTrunzö^  i sehe  JahrbitfChtr. 


17 


the  lower  middle  dass  vanishes  more  completely  with  every  passing  day.  Thus 
the  dass  formerly  most  stable,  has  become  the  mostrestless  one.  It  consists 
to-day  of  a few  remnants  of  a past  time  and  a number  of  people  eager  to  make 
fortunes,  industrial  Micawbers  and  speculators  of  whom  one  may  amass  a 
fortune,  while  ninety-nine  become  insolvent  and  more  than  half  of  the  ninety- 
nine  live  by  perpetually  repeated  failure. 

But  in  these  towns  the  proletarians  are  the  infinite  majority,  and  how  they 
fare,  what  influence  the  great  town  exercises  upon  them,  we  have  now  to 
investigate. 


The  Great  Towns. 

A town,  such  as  London,  where  a man  may  wander  for  hours  together  without 
reaching  the  beginning  of  the  end,  without  meeting  the  slightest  hint  which 
could  lead  to  the  inference  that  there  is  open  country  within  reach,  is  a stränge 
thing.  This  colossal  centralization,  this  heaping  together  of  two  and  a half 
millions  of  human  beings  at  one  point,  has  multiplied  thepower  of  this  two  and  a 
half  millions  a hundred  fold  ; has  raised  London  to  the  commercial  Capital  of  the 
World  , created  the  giant  docks  and  assembled  the  thousand  vessels  that  con- 
tinually  cover  the  Thames.  I know  nothing  more  imposing  than  the  view  which 
the  Thames  offers  during  the  ascent  from  the  sea  to  London  Bridge.  The 
masses  of  buildings,  the  wharves  on  both  sides,  especially  from  Woolwich  up- 
wards,  the  countless  ships  along  both  shores,  crowding  ever  closer  and  closer 
together  until,  at  last,  only  a narrow  passage  remains  in  the  middle  of  the  river, 
a passage  through  which  hundreds  of  Steamers  shoot  by  one  another;  all  this  is 
so  vast,  so  impressive,  that  a man  cannot  collect  himself,  but  is  lost  in  the 
marvel  of  England’s  greatness  before  he  sets  foot  upon  English  soil.* 

But  the  sacrifices  which  all  this  has  cost  become  apparent  later.  After  roam- 
ing  the  streets  of  the  Capital  a day  or  two,  making  headvvay  with  difficulty  through 
the  human  turmoil  and  the  endless  lines  of  vehicles,  after  visiting  the  slums  of 
the  metropolis,  one  realizes  for  the  first  time  that  these  Londoners  have  been 
forced  to  sacrifice  the  best  qualities  of  their  human  nature,  to  bring  to  pass  all 
the  marvels  of  civilization  which  crowd  their  city  ; that  a hundred  powers  which 
slumbered  within  them  have  remained  inactive,  have  been  suppressed  in  Order 
that  a few  might  be  developed  more  fully  and  multiply  through  union  with  those 
of  others.  The  very  turmoil  of  the  streets  has  something  repulsive,  something 
against  which  human  nature  rebels.  The  hundreds  of  thousands  of  all  classes 
and  ranks  crowding  past  each  other,  are  they  not  all  human  beings  with  the 
same  qualities  and  powers,  and  with  the  same  interest  in  being  happy  ? And 
have  they  not,  in  the  end,  to  seek  happiness  in  the  same  way^  by  the  same 
means  ? And  still  they  crowd  by  one  another  as  though  they  had  nothing  in 

* This  appHes  to  the  time  of  sailing  vessels.  The  Thames  now  is  a dreary  collection  of  ugly 
Steamers.  F.  E. 


— i8  — 

common,  nothing  to  do  with  one  another,  and  their  only  agreement  is  the  tacit 
one,  that  each  keep  to  his  own  side  of  the  pavement,  so  as  not  to  delay  the 
opposing  streams  of  the  crowd,  while  it  occurs  to  no  man  to  honor  another  with 
so  much  as  a glance.  The  brutal  indifference,  the  unfeeling  isolation  of  each  in 
his  private  interest  becomes  the  more  repellant  and  offensive,  the  more  these 
individuals  are  crowded  together  within  a limited  space.  And  however  much 
one  may  be  aware  that  this  isolation  of  the  individual,  this  narrow  self-seeking  is 
the  fundamental  principle  of  our  society  everywhere,  it  is  nowhere  so  shamelessly 
barefaced,  so  selfconscious  as  just  here  in  the  crowding  of  the  great  city.  The 
dissolution  of  mankind  into  monads,  of  which  each  one  has  a separate  principle, 
the  World  of  atoms,  is  here  carried  out  to  its  utmost  extreme. 

Hence  it  comes,  too,  that  the  social  war,  the  war  of  each  against  all,  is  here 
openly  declared.  Just  as  in  Stirner’s  recent  book,  people  regard  each  other  only 
as  useful  objects  ; each  exploits  the  other,  and  the  end  of  it  all  is,  that  the 
stronger  treads  the  weaker  under  foot,  and  that  the  powerful  few,  the  capitalists, 
seize  everything  for  themselves,  while  to  the  weak  many,  the  poor,  scarcely  a 
bare  existence  remains. 

What  is  true  of  London,  is  true  of  Manchester,  Birmingham,  Leeds,  is  true 
of  all  great  towns.  Everywhere  barbarous  indifference,  hard  egotism  on  one 
hand  and  nameless  misery  on  the  other,  everywhere  social  warfare,  every  man’s 
house  in  a state  of  siege,  everywhere  reciprocal  plundering  under  the  protection 
of  the  Law,  and  all  so  shameless,  so  openly  avowed  that  one  shrinks  before  the 
consequences  of  our  social  state  as  they  manifest  themselves  here  undisguised, 
and  can  only  wonder  that  the  whole  crazy  fabric  still  hangs  together. 

I Since  Capital,  the  direct  or  indirect  control  of  the  means  of  subsistence  and 
production  is  the  weapon  with  which  this  social  warfare  is  carried  on,  it  is  clear 
that  all  the  disadvantages  of  such  a state  must  fall  upon  the  poor.  For  him  no 
man  has  the  slightest  concern.  Cast  into  the  Whirlpool,  he  must  struggle 
through  as  well  as  he  can.  If  he  is  so  happy  as  to  find  work,  i.  e.,  if  the  bour- 
geoisie  does  him  the  favor  to  enrich  itself  by  means  of  him,  wages  await  him 
which  scarcely  suffice  to  keep  body  and  soul  together;  if  he  can  get  no  work  he 
may  steal,  if  he  is  not  afraid  of  the  police,  or  starve,  in  which  case  the  polic'e 
will  take  care  that  he  does  so  in  a quiet  and  inoffensive  manner.  Düring  my 
residence  in  England,  at  least  twenty  to  thirty  persons  have  died  of  simple 
starvation  under  the  most  revolting  circumstances,  and  a Jury  has  rarely  been 
found  possessed  of  the  courage  to  speak  the  plain  truth  in  the  matterj  Let  the 
testimony  of  the  witnesses  be  never  so  clear  and  unequivocal,  the  bourgeoisie, 
from  which  the  jury  is  selected,  always  finds  some  backdoor  through  which  to 
escape  the  frightful  verdict,  death  from  starvation.  The  bourgeoisie  dare  not 
speak  the  truth  in  these  cases,  for  it  would  speak  its  own  condemnation.  But 
indirectly,  far  more  than  directly,  many  have  died  of  starvation,  where  long  con- 
tinued  want  of  proper  nourishment  has  called  forth  fatal  illness,  when  it  has 
produced  such  debility  that  causes  which  might  otherwise  have  remained  inop- 
erative, brought  on  severe  illness  and  death.  The  English  workingmen  call  this 


— 19  — 

“ social  murder,”  and  accuse  our  whole  society  of  perpetrating  this  crime  per- 
petually.  Are  they  wrong  ? 

True,  it  is  only  individuals  who  starve,  but  what  security  has  the  working 
man  that  it  may  not  be  bis  turn  to-morrow  ? Who  assures  him  employment, 
who  vouches  for  it,  that,  if  for  any  reason  or  no  reason  his  lord  and  master  dis- 
charges  him  to  morrow,  he  can  struggle  along  with  those  dependent  upon  him 
until  he  may  find  some  one  eise  “ to  give  him  bread?”  Who  guarantees  that 
willingness  to  work  shall  suffice  to  obtain  work,  that  uprightness,  industry, 
thrift,  and  the  rest  of  the  virtues  recommended  by  the  bourgeoisie,  are  really  his 
road  to  happiness  ? No  one.  He  knows  that  he  has  something  to-day  and 
that  it  does  not  depend  upon  himself  whether  he  shall  have  something  to- 
morrow.  He  knows  that  every  breeze  that  blows,  ever  whim  of  his  employer, 
every  bad  turn  of  trade  may  hurl  him  back  into  the  fierce  Whirlpool  from  which 
he  has  temporarily  saved  himself,  and  in  which  it  is  hard  and  often  impossible  to 
keep  his  head  above  water.  He  knows  that,  though  he  may  have  the  means  of 
living  to-day,  it  is  very  uncertain  whether  he  shall  to-morrow. 

Meanwhile,  let  us  proceed  to  a more  detailed  Investigation  of  the  position 
in  which  the  social  war  has  placed  the  non-possessing  dass.  Let  us  see  what 
pay  for  his  work  society  does  give  the  workingman  in  the  form  of  dwelling, 
clothing,  food,  what  sort  of  subsistence  it  grants  those  who  contribute  most  to 
the  maintenance  of  society  ; and,  first,  let  us  consider  the  dwellings. 

Every  great  city  has  one  or  more  slums  where  the  working  class  is  crowded 
together.  True,  poverty  often  dwells  in  hidden  alleys  dose  to  the  palaces  of  the 
rieh  ; but,  in  general,  a separate  territory  has  been  assigned  to  it,  where,  re- 
moved  from  the  sight  of  the  happier  classes,  it  may  struggle  along  as  it  can. 
These  slums  are  pretty  equally  arranged  in  all  the  great  towns  of  England,  the 
worst  houses  in  the  worst  quarters  of  the  towns  ; usually  one  or  two-storied 
Cottages  in  long  rows,  perhaps  with  cellars  used  as  dwellings,  almost  always 
irregularly  built.  These  houses  of  three  or  four  rooms  and  a kitchen  form, 
throughout  England,  some  parts  of  London  excepted,  the  general  dwellings  of 
the  working  class.  The  streets  are  generally  unpaved,  rough,  dirty,  filled  with 
vegetable  and  animal  refuse,  without  sewers  or  gutters,  but  supplied  with  foul 
stagnant  pools  instead.  Moreover,  Ventilation  is  impeded  by  the  bad,  confused 
method  of  building  of  the  whole  quarter,  and  since  many  human  beings  here 
live  crowded  into  a small  space,  the  atmosphere  that  prevails  in  these  working- 
mens’  quarters  may  readily  be  imagined.  Further,  the  streets  serve  as  drying 
grounds  in  fine  weather  ; lines  are  stretched  across  from  house  to  house,  and 
hung  with  wet  clothing. 

Let  US  investigate  some  of  the  slums  in  their  order.  London  comes  first, 
and  in  London  the  famous  rookery  of  St.  Giles  which  is  now,  at  last,  about  to  be 
penetrated  by  a couple  of  broad  streets.  St.  Giles  is  in  the  midst  of  the  most 
populous  part  of  the  town,  surrounded  by  broad,  splendid  avenues  in  which  the 
gay  World  of  London  idles  about,  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  Oxford 
Street,  Regent  Street,  of  Trafalgar  Square  and  the  Strand.  It  is  a disorderly 
Collection  of  tall,  three  or  four-storied  houses,  with  narrow,  crooked,  filthy 


20 


Streets,  in  which  there  is  quite  as  much  life  as  in  the  great  thoroughfares  of  the 
town  except  that,  here,  people  of  the  working  dass  only  are  to  be  seen.  A vege- 
table  market  is  held  in  the  Street,  baskets  with  vegetables  and  fruits,  naturally 
all  bad  and  hardly  fit  to  use,  obstruct  the  sidewalk  still  further,  and  from  these, 
as  well  as  from  the  fish  dealers'  Stalls,  arises  a horrible  smell.  The  houses  are 
occupied  from  cellar  to  garret,  filthy  within  and  without,  and  their  appearance 
is  such  that  no  human  being  could  possibly  wish  to  live  in  them.  But  all  this 
is  nothing  in  comparison  with  the  dwellings  in  the  narrow  courts  and  alleys 
between  the  streets,  entered  by  covered  passages  between  the  houses,  in  which 
the  filth  and  tottering  ruin  surpass  all  description.  Scarcely  a whole  window 
pane  can  be  found,  the  walls  are  crumbling,  doorposts  and  window  frames  loose 
and  broken,  doors  of  old  boards  nailed  together  or  altogether  wanting  in  this 
thieves’  quarter  where  no  doors  are  needed,  there  being  nothing  to  steal.  Heaps 
of  garbage  and  ashes  lie  in  all  directions,  and  the  foul  liquids  emptied  before  the 
doors  gather  in  stinking  pools.  Here  live  the  poorest  of  the  poor,  the  worst 
paid  workers  with  thieves,  and  the  victims  of  Prostitution  indiscriminately 
huddled  together,  the  majority  Irish  or  of  Irish  extraction,  and  those  who  have 
not  yet  sunk  in  the  Whirlpool  of  moral  ruin  which  surrounds  them,  sinking 
daily  deeper,  losing  daily  more  and  more  of  their  power  to  resist  the  demoralizing 
influence  of  want,  filth  and  evil  surroundings. 

Nor  is  St.  Giles  the  only  London  slum.  In  the  immense  tangle  of  streets 
there  are  hundreds  and  thousands  of  alleys  and  courts  lined  with  houses  too  bad 
for  anyone  to  live  in,  who  can  still  spend  anything  whatsoever  upon  a dwelling 
fit  for  human  beings.  Close  to  the  splendid  houses  of  the  rieh  such  a lurking 
place  of  the  bitterest  poverty  may  often  be  found.  So,  a short  time  ago,  on  the 
occasion  of  a coroner’s  inquest,  a region  close  to  Portman  Square,  one  of  the 
very  respectable  squares,  was  characterized  as  an  abode  “ of  a multitude  of  Irish 
demoralized  by  poverty  and  filth.”  So,  too,  may  be  found  in  streets,  such  as 
Long  Acre  and  others,  which,  though  not  fashionable,  are  yet  “respectable,  ” 
a great  number  of  cellar  dwellings  out  of  v/hich  puny  children  and  half-starved, 
ragged  women  emerge  into  the  light  of  day.  In  the  immediate  neighborhood 
of  Drury  Laue  Theater,  the  second  in  London,  -are  some  of  the  worst  streets  of 
the  whole  metropolis,  Charles,  King  and  Park  streets,  in  which  the  houses  are 
inhabited  from  cellar  to  garret  exclusively  by  poor  families.  In  the  parishes  of 
St.  John  and  St.  Margaret  there  lived  in  1840,  according  to  the  Journal  of  the 
Statistical  Society^  5,366  workingmen’s  families  in  5,294  “dwellings”  (if  they 
deserve  the  name  !)  men,  women  and  children  thrown  together  without  distinc- 
tion  of  age  or  sex,  26,830  persons  all  told  ; and  of  these  families  three-fourths 
possessed  but  one  room.  In  the  aristocratic  parish  of  St.  George,  Hanover 
Square,  there  lived,  according  to  the  same  authority,  1,465  workingmen’s  fam- 
ilies, nearly  6,000  persons,  under  similar  conditions,  and  here,  too,  more  than 
two-thirds  of  the  whole  number  crowded  together  at  the  rate  of  one  family  in 
one  room.  And  how  the  poverty  of  these  unfortunates,  among  whom  even 
thieves  find  nothing  to  steal,  is  exploited  by  the  property-holding  dass  in  lawful 
ways  ] The  abominable  dwellings  in  Drury  Lane,  just  mentioned,  bring  in  the 


21 


foilowing  rents  : two  cellar  dwellings,  3 sh.;  one  room,  ground  floor,  4 sh.  ; 
second  story,  4 sh.  6 d.  ; third  floor,  4 sh.  ; garret  room,  3 sh.  weekly,  so  that 
the  Starving  occupants  of  Charles  Street  alone,  pay  the  house-owners  a yearly 
tribute  of  ;^2,ooo,  and  the  5,336  families  above  mentioned  in  Westminster,  a 
yearly  rent  of  ;^40,ooo. 

The  most  extensive  working  people’s  district  lies  east  of  the  Tower  in  White 
Chapel  and  Bethnal  Green,  where  the  greatest  massesof  London  working  people 
live.  Let  us  hear  Mr.  G.  Aiston,  preacher  of  St.  Philip’s  Bethnal  Green,  on 
the  condition  of  his  parish.  He  says  : 

“It  containsi,400  houses,  inhabited  by  2,795  families,  or  about  12,000  persons. 
The  space  upon  which  this  large  population  dw-ells,  is  less  than  400  yards  (1,200 
feet)  square,  and  in  this  overcrowding  it  is  nothing  unusual  to  find  a man,  his 
wife,  four  or  five  children  and,  sometimes,  both  grandparents,  all  in  one  single 
room,  where  they  eat,  sleep  and  work.  I believe  that  before  the  Bishop  of  Lon- 
don called  attention  to  this  most  poverty-stricken  parish  people  at  the  West  End, 
knew  as  little  of  it  as  of  the  savages  of  Australia  or  the  South  Sea  Isles.  And 
if  we  make  ourselves  acquainted  with  these  unfortunates,  through  personal 
Observation,  if  we  watch  them  at  their  scanty  meal  and  see  them  bowed  by 
illness  and  -want  of  work,  we  shall  find  such  a mass  of  helplessness  and  misery, 
that  a nation  like  ours  must  blush,  that  these  things  can  be  possible.  I was  rec- 
tor  near  Huddersfield  during  the  three  years  in  which  the  mills  were  at  their 
worst,  but  I have  never  seen  such  complete  helplessness  of  the  poor  as  since 
then  in  Bethnal  Green.  Not  one  father  of  a family  in  ten  in  the  whole  neigh- 
borhood  has  other  clothing  than  his  working  suit,  and  that  is  as  bad  and  tattered 
as  possible  ; many  indeed,  have  no  other  covering  for  the  night  than  these 
rags,  and  no  bed,  save  a sack  of  straw  and  shavings-.” 

The  foregoing  description  furnishes  an  idea  of  the  aspect  of  the  interiors  of 
the  dwellings.  But  let  us  follow  the  English  officials  who  occasionally  stray 
thither,  into  one  or  two  of  these  workingmen’s  homes. 

On  the  occasion  of  an  inquest  held  Nov.  iqth,  1843,  by  Mr.  Carter,  coroner  for 
Surrey,  upon  the  body  of  Ann  Galway,  aged  45  years,  the  newspapers  related 
the  following  particulars  conceining  the  deceased;  She  had  lived  at  No.  3 
White  Lion  Court,  Bermondsey  Street,  London,  with  her  husband  and  a nine- 
teen  year-old  son  in  a little  room,  in  which  neither  a bedste-ad  nor  any  other 
furniture  was  to  be  seen.  She  lay  dead  beside  her  son  upon  a heap  of  feathers 
which  were  scattered  over  her  almost  naked  body,  there  being  neither  sheet  nor 
coverlet.  The  feathers  stuck  so  fast  over  the  whole  body  that  the  physician 
could  not  examine  the  corpse  until  it  was  cleansed,  and  then  found  it  starved 
and  scarred  from  the  bites  of  vermin.  Part  of  the  floor  of  the  room  was  torn 
Up,  and  the  hole  used  by  the  family  as  a privy, 

On  Monday,  Jan.  I5th,  1844,  two  boys  were  brought  before  the  police  magis- 
trate  because, being  in  astarving  condition,  they  had  stolen  and  immediately  de- 
voured  a half-cooked  calf’s  foot  from  a shop.  The  magistrate  feit  called  upon 
to  investigaie  the  case  farther,  and  received  the  following  detailsfrom  the  police- 
man:  The  mother  of  the  two  boys  was  the  widow  of  an  ex-soldier,  afterwards 
policeman,  and  had  had  a very  hard  time  since  the  death  of  her  husband,  to 
provide  for  her  nine  children.  She  lived  at  No.  2 Pool’s  Place,  Quaker  Court, 
Spitalfields,  in  the  utmost  poverty.  When  the  policeman  came  to  her,  he  found 


22  — 


her  with  six  of  her  children  literally  huddled  together  in  a little  back  room,  with 
no  furniture  but  two  old  rush-bottomed  chairs  with  the  seats  gone,  a small  table 
with  two  legs  broken,  a broken  cup  and  a small  dish.  On  the  hearth  was 
scarcely  a spark  of  fire,  and  in  one  corner  lay  as  many  old  rags  as  would  fill  a 
woman’s  apron,  which  served  the  whole  family  as  a bed.  For  bed  clothing 
they  had  only  their  scanty  day  clothing.  The  poor  woman  told  him  that  she 
had  been  forced  to  seil  her  bedstead  the^year  before  to  buy  food.  Her  bedding 
she  had  pawned  with  the  victualler  for  food.  In  short,  everything  had  gone  for 
food.  The  magistrate  ordered  the  woman  a considerable  provision  from  the 
poor-box. 

In  February,  1844,  Theresa  Bishop,  a widow  60  years  old,  was  recommended 
with  her  sick  daaghter,  aged  26,  to  the  compassion  of  the  police  magistrate  in 
Marlborough  Street.  She  lived  at  No.  5 Brown  Street,  Grosvenor  Square,  in  a 
small  back  room  no  larger  than  a doset,  in  which  there  was  not  one  single  piece 
of  furniture.  In  one  corner  lay  some  rags  upon  which  both  slept  ; a ehest 
served  as  table  and  chair.  The  mother  earned  a little  by  charring.  The  owner 
of  the  house  said  that  they  had  lived  in  this  way  since  May,  1843,  had  gradually 
sold  or  pawned  everything  that  they  had,  and  had  still  never  paid  any  rent.  The 
magistrate  assigned  them  from  the  poor-box. 

I am  far  from  asserting  that  all  London  working  people  live  in  such  want  as 
the  foregoing  three  families.  I know  very  well  that  ten  are  somewhat  better  off, 
where  one  is  so  totally  trodden  under  foot  by  society ; but  I assert  that  thousands  of 
industrious  and  worthy  people — far  worthier  and  more  to  be  respected  than  all 
the  rieh  of  London — do  find  themselves  in  a condition  unworthy  of  human 
beings  ; and  that  every  proletarian,  everyone  without  exception,  is  exposed  to  a 
similar  fate  without  any  fault  of  his  own  and  in  spite  of  every  possible  effort. 

But  in  spite  of  all  this, they  who  have  some  kind  of  ashelterare  fortunate,  for- 
tunate  in  comparison  with  the  utterly  homeless.  In  London  fifty  thousand  human 
beings  get  up  every  morning,  not  knowing  where  they  are  to  lay  their  heads  at 
night.  The  luckiest  of  this  multitude,  those  who  succeed  in  keeping  a penny 
or  two  until  evening,  enter  a lodging-house,  such  as  abound  in  every  great  city, 
where  they  find  a bed.  But,  what  a bed  ! These  houses  are  filled  with  beds 
from  cellar  to  garret,  four,  five,  six  beds  in  a room  ; as  many  as  can  be  crowded 
in.  Into  every  bed  four,  five  or  six  human  beings  are  piled,  as  many  as  can  be 
packedin,  sick  and  well,  young  and  old,  drunk  and  sober,  men  and  women,  just 
as  they  come,  indiscriminately.  Then  come  strife,  blows,  wounds,  or,  if  thesc 
bedfellows  agree,  so  much  the  worse  ; thefts  are  arranged  and  things  done  which 
our  language,  grown  more  humane  than  our  deeds,  refuses  to  record.  And 
those  who  cannot  pay  for  such  a refuge  ? They  sleep  where  they  find  a place, 
in  passages,  arcades,  in  corners  where  the  police  and  the  owners  leave  them 
undisturbed.  A few  individuals  find  their  way  to  the  refuges  which  are  managed, 
here  and  there,  by  private  charity,  others  sleep  on  the  benches  in  the  parks  dose 
under  the  Windows  of  Queen  Victoria.  Let  us  hear  the  London  Times, 

“ It  appears  from  the  report  of  the  proceedings  at  Marlborough  Street  Police 
Court  in  our  columns  of  yesterday,  that  there  is  an  average  number  of  50  human 


23 


beings  of  all  ages,  who  huddle  together  in  the  parks  evcry  night,  having  no 
other  shelter  than  what  is  supplied  by  the  trees  and  a few  hollows  of  the  em- 
bankment.  Of  these,  the  majority  are  young  girls  who  have  been  seduced  froni 
the  country  by  the  soldiers  and  turned  loose  on  the  world  in  all  the  destitution 
of  friendless  penury,  and  all  the  recklessness  of  early  vice.” 

“ This  is  truly  horrible!  Poor  there  must  be  everywhefe.  Indigence  will 
find  its  way  and  set  up  its  hideous  state  in  the  heart  of  a great  and  luxurious 
city.  Amid  the  thousand  narrow  lanes  and  by-streets  of  a populous  metropolis 
there  must  always,  we  fear,  be  much  suffering — much  that  offends  the  eye — 
much  that  lurks  unseen.” 

“ But  that  within  the  precincts  of  wealth,  gaiety  and  fashion,  nigh  the  regal 
grandeur  of  St.  James,  dose  on  the  palatial  splendor  of  Bayswater,  on  the  con- 
fines  of  the  old  and  new  aristocratic  quarters,  in  a district  where  the  cautious  re- 
finement  of  modern  design  has  refrained  from  creating  one  single  tenement  for 
poverty  ; which  seems,  as  it  were,  dedicated  to  the  exclusive  enj oyment  of 
wealth,  that  there  want,  and  famine,  and  disease,  and  vice  should  stalk  in  all 
their  kindred  horrors,  consuming  body  by  body,  soul  by  soul!” 

“ It  is  indeed  a monstrous  state  of  things  ! Enjoyment  the  most  absolute, 
that  bodily  ease,  intellectual  excitement,  or  the  more  innocent  pleasures  of  sense 
can  supply  to  man’s  craving,  brought  in  dose  contact  with  the  most  unmitigated 
misery  ! Wealth,  from  its  bright  saloons,  laughing — an  insolently  heedless 
laugh — at  the  unknown  wounds  of  want  ! Pleasure,  cruelly  but  unconsciously 
mocking  the  pain  that  moans  below  ! All  contrary  things  mocking  one  another 
— all  contrary,  save  the  vice  which  tempts  and  the  vice  which  is  tempted  !” 

But  l^t  all  men  remember  this  — that  within  the  most  courtly  precincts  of  the 
richest  city  of  God’s  Earth,  there  may  be  found,  night  after  night,  winter  after 
winter,  women — young  in  years— old  in  sin  and  suffering — outcasts  from  society 
— ROTTING  FROM  FAMINE,  FILTH  AND  DISEASE.  Let  them  remember  this,  and 
learn  not  to  theorize,  but  to  act.  God  knows,  there  is  much  room  for  action 
nowadays.’i 

I have  referred  to  the  refuges  for  the  homeless.  How  greatly  overcrowded 
these  are,  two  examples  may  show.  A newly  erected  Refuge  for  the  Houseless 
in  Upper  Ogle  Street  that  can  shelter  three  hundred  persons  every  night,  has 
leceived  since  its  opening,  January  27th  to  March  lyth,  1844,  2,740  persons  for 
one  or  more  nights;  and,  although  the  season  was  growing  more  favorable,  the 
nurnber  of  applicants  in  this,  as  well  as  in  the  asylums  of  Whitecross  Street  and 
Wapping,  was  strongly  on  the  increase,  and  a crowd  of  the  homeless  had  to  be 
sent  away  every  night  for  want  of  room.  In  another  refuge,  the  Central  Asylum 
in  Playhouse  Yard,  there  were  supplied  on  an  average  460  beds  nightly,  during 
the  first  three  months  of  the  year  1844,  6,681  persons  being  sheltered,  and 
96,141  portions  of  bread  were  distributed.  Yet  the  committee  of  directors  de- 
clare  this  Institution  began  to  meet  the  pressure  of  the  needy  to  a limited  extent 
only  when  the  Eastern  Asylum  also  was  opened. 

Let  US  leave  London  and  examine  the  other  great  cities  of  the  three  Kingdoms 
in  their  order.  Let  us  take  Dublin  first,  a city  the  approach  to  which  from 
the  sea  is  as  charming  as  that  of  London  is  imposing.  The  Bay  of  Dublin  is 
the  most  beautiful  of  the  whole  British  Island  Kingdom,  and  is  even  compared 
by  the  Irish  with  the  Bay  of  Naples.  The  city,  too,  possesses  great  attractions, 
and  its  aristocratic  districts  are  better  and  more  tastefully  laid  out  than  those  of 
any  other  British  city.  By  way  of  compensation,  however,  the  poorer  districts 


1 Times,  Oct.  i2th,  1843. 


24 


of  Dublin  are  among  the  most  hideous  and  repulsive  to  be  seen  in  the  world. 
True,  the  Irish  character,  which,  under  some  circumstances  is  comfortable  only  I 
in  the  dirt,  has  some  share  in  this;  but  as  we  find  thousands  of  the  Irish  in  every  | 
great  city  in  England  and  Scotland,  and  as  every  poor  population  must  gradu-  | 
ally  sink  into  the  same  uncleanliness,  the  wretchedness  of  Dublin  is  nothing 
specific,  nothing  peculiar  to  Dublin,  but  something  common  to  all  great  towns.  i 
The  poor  quarters  of  Dublin  are  extremely  extensive,  and  the  filth,  the  unin- 
habitableness  of  the  houses  and  the  neglect  of  the  streets  surpassall  description. 
Some  idea  of  the  manner  in  which  the  poor  are  here  crowded  together  may  be 
formed  from  the  fact,  that  in  1817,  according  to  the  report  of  the  Inspector  of 
Workhousesi,  1,318  persons  lived  in  fifty-two  houses  with  390  rooms  in  Barral 
Street,  and  i,Q97  persons  in  71  houses  with  393  rooms  in  and  near  Church  Street;  j 
that : I 

‘‘  In  this  and  the  adjoining  district  there  exists  a multitude  of  foul  courts  and 
alleys,  that  many  cellars  receive  all  their  light  through  the  door,  while  in  not  a 
few  the  inhabitants  sleep  iipon  the  bare  floor,  though  most  of  them  possess  bed- 
steads  at  least,  that  Nicholson’s  Court  for  example  contains  twenty-eight  wretched 
little  rooms  with  151  human  beings  in  the  greatest  want,  there  being  but  two 
bedsteads  and  two  blankets  to  be  found  in  the  whole  court.” 

The  poverty  is  so  great  in  Dublin,  that  a single  benevolent  Institution,  the 
Mendicity  Association,  gives  relief  to  2,500  persons  (or  one  per  cent.  of  the 
population)  daily,  receiving  and  feeding  them  for  the  day  and  dismissing  them 
at  night. 

Dr.  Alison  describes  a similar  state  of  things  in  Edinburgh,  whose  superb 
Situation  which  has  won  it  the  title  of  the  modern  Athens,  and  whose  brilliant 
aristocratic  quarter  in  the  New  Town,  contrast  strongly  with  the  foul  wretched- 
ness of  the  poor  in  the  Old  Town.  Alison  asserts  that  this  extensive  quarter  is 
as  filthy  and  horrible  as  the  worst  district  of  Dublin,  while  the  Mendicity 
Association  would  have  as  great  a proportion  of  needy  persons  to  assist  in 
Edinburgh  as  in  the  Irish  Capital.  He  asserts,  indeed,  that  the  poor  in  Scotland, 
especially  in  Edinburgh  and  Glasgow,  are  worse  off  than  in  any  other  region  of 
the  three  kingdoms,  and  that  the  poorest  are  not  Irish,  but  Scotch.  The 
preacher  of  the  Old  Church  of  Edinburgh,  Dr.  Lee,  testified  in  1836,  before  the 
Commission  of  Religious  Instruction,  that  : 

“ He  had  never  before  seen  such  misery  as  in  his  parish  where  the  people 
were  without  furniture,  without  everything,  two  married  couples  often  sharing 
one  room.  In  a single  day  he  had  visited  seven  houses  in  which  there  was  not 
a bed,  in  some  of  them  not  even  a heap  of  straw.  Old  people  of  eighty  years 
sleep  on  the  board  floor,  nearly  all  slept  in  their  day-clothes.  In  one  cellar  room 
he  found  two  families  from  a Scotch  country  district;  soon  after  their  removal  to 
the  city  two  of  the  children  had  died,  and  a third  was  dying  at  the  time  of  his 
visit.  Each  family  had  a filthy  pile  of  straw  lying  in  a corner,  and  the  cellar 
sheltered  besides  the  two  families  a donkey,  and  was,  moreover,  so  dark  that  it 
was  impossible  to  distinguish  one  person  from  another  by  day.  Dr.  Lee  de- 

Qaoted  by  Dr.  W.  P.  Alison,  F.  R.  S.  E.,  Fellow  and  late  President  of  the  Royal  College 
of  Physicians,  etc.,  etc.  Observations  on  the  Management  of  the  Poor  in  Scotland  and  its  Effects 
on  the  Health  of  Great  Towns.  Edinburgh,  1840.  The  Author  is  a religious  Tory,  brother  of  the 
Historian  Archibald  Alison. 


25 


clared  that  it  was  enough  to  make  a heart  of  adamant  bleed  to  see  such  misery 
in  a country  like  Scotland.” 

In  the  Edinburgh  Medical  aiid Surgical Journal,  Dr.  Hennan  reports  a similar 
state  of  things.  From  a Parliamentary  Report,  ^ it  is  evident  that  in  the  dwell- 
ings  of  the  poor  of  Edinburgh  a want  of  cleanliness  reigns,  such  as  must  be  ex- 
pected  under  these  conditions.  On  the  bed-posts  chickens  roost  at  night,  dogs 
and  horses  share  the  dwellings  of  human  beings,  and  the  natural  consequence 
is  a shocking  stenchwith  filth  and  swarms  of  vermin.  The  prevailing  construc- 
tion  of  Edinburgh  favors  these  atrocious  conditions  as  far  as  possible.  The  Old 
Town  is  built  upon  both  slopes  of  a hill,  along  the  crest  of  which  runs  the  High 
Street.  Out  of  the  High  Street  there  open  downwards  multitudes  of  narrow, 
crooked.alleys,  called  wynds  from  their  many  turnings,  and  these  wynds  form 
the  proletarian  district  of  the  city.  The  houses  of  the  Scotch  cities,  in  general, 
are  five  or  six-storied  buildings  like  those  of  Paris,  and  in  contrast  with  England 
where,  so  far  as  possible,  each  family  has  a separate  house.  The  crowding  of 
human  beings  upon  a limited  area  is  thus  intensified.  ^ 

“ These  streets,”  says  an  English  Journal  in  an  article  upon  the  sanitary  con- 
dition of  the  working  people  in  cities,“  are  often  so  narrow  that  a person  can 
Step  from  the  window  of  one  house  into  that  of  its  opposite  neighbor,  while  the 
houses  are  piled  so  high,  story  upon  story,  that  the  light  can  scarcely  penetrate 
into  the  court  or  alley  that  lies  between.  In  this  part  of  the  city  there  are 
neither  sewers  nor  other  drains  or  even  privies  belonging  to  the  houses. . In 
consequence  all  refuse,  garbage  and  exerements  of  at  least  50,000  persons  are 
thrown  into  the  gutters  every  night,  so  that,  in  spite  of  all  the  Street  sweeping, 
a mass  of  dried  filth  and  foul  vapors  are  created,  which  not  only  offend  the 
sight  and  smell,  but  endanger  the  health  of  the  inhabitants  in  the  highest 
degree.  Is  it  to  be  wondered  at,  that  in  such  localities  all  considerations  of 
health,  morals  and  even  the  most  ordinary  decency  are  utterly  neglected  ? On  the 
contrary,  all  who  are  more  intimately  acquainted  with  the  condition  of  the  inhabi- 
tants will  testify  to  the  high  degree  which  disease,  wretchedness  and  demoral- 
ization  have  here  reached.  Society  in  such  districts  has  sunk  to  a level 
indescribably  low  and  hopeless.  The  houses  of  the  poor  are  generally  filthy 
and  are  evidently  never  cleansed.  They  consist  in  most  cases  of  a single  room 
which,  while  subject  to  the  worst  Ventilation,  is  yet  usually  kept  cold  by  the 
broken  and  badly-fitting  Windows,  and  is  sometimes  damp  and  partly  below 
ground  level,  always  badly  furnished  and  thoroughly  uncomfortable,  a straw- 
heap  often  serving  the  whole  family  for  a bed  upon  which  men  and  women, 
young  and  old,  sleep  in  revolting  confusion.  Water  can  be  had  only  from  the 
public  pumps,  and  the  difficulty  of  obtaining  it  naturally  fosters  all  possible 
filth.” 

In  the  other  great  seaport  towns  the  prospect  is  no  better.  Liverpool,  with 
all  its  commerce,  wealth  and  grandeur  yet  treats  its  workers  with  the  same 
barbarity.  A full  fifth  of  the  population,  more  than  45,000  human  beings,  live 
in  narrow,  dark,  damp,  badly-ventilated  cellar  dwellings,  of  which  there  are 
7,862  in  the  city.  Besides  these  cellar  dwellings  there  are  2,270  courts,  small 
spaces  built  up  on  all  four  sides  and  having  but  one  entrance,  a narrow  covered 


1 Report  to  the  Home  Secretary  from  the  Poor-Law  Commissioners  on  an  Inquiry  into  the 
Sanitary  Condition  of  the  Laboring  Classes  in  Great  Britain  with  Appendix.  Presented  to  both 
Houses  of  Parliament  in  July,  1842,  3 vola.  Folio. 

2 The  Artizan,  October,  1842. 


26 


passage-wav,  the  whole  ordinarily  very  dirty  and  inhabited  exclusively  by  pro- 
letarians.  Of  such  courts  we  shall  have  more  to  say  when  we  come  to  Man- 
chester. In  Bristol,  on  one  occasion,  2,800  families  were  visited,  of  whom  46^ 
occupied  but  one  room  each. 

Precisely  the  same  state  of  things  prevails  in  the  factory  towns.  In  Notting- 
ham there  are  in  all  11,000  houses,  of  which  between  7,000  and  8,000  are  built 
back  to  back  with  a rear  parti-wall  so  that  no  through  Ventilation  is  possible, 
while  a single  privy  usually  serves  for  several  houses.  Düring  an  investigation 
made  a short  time  since,  many  rows  of  houses  were  found  to  have  been  built 
over  shallow  drains  covered  only  by  the  boards  of  the  ground  floor.  In  Leices-  • 
ter,  Derby  and  Sheffield,  it  is  no  better.  Of  Birmingham,  the  article  above. 
cited  from  the  Artizan  States: 

“ In  the  older  quarters  of  the  city  there  are  many  bad  districts,  filthy  and 
neglected,  full  of  stagnant  pools  and  heaps  of  refuse.  Courts  are  very  numer- 
ous  in  Birmingham,  reaching  two  thousand,  and  containing  the  g'reater  number 
of  the  working  people  of  the  city.  These  courts  are  usually  narrow,  muddy, 
badly  ventilated,  ill-drained  and  lined  with  eight  to  twenty  houses,  which,  by 
reason  of  havingtheir  rear  walls  in  common,  can  usually  be  ventilated  from  one 
side  only.  In  the  background,  within  the  court,  there  is  usually  an  ash  heap 
or  something  of  the  kind,  the  filth  of  which  cannot  be  described.  It  must, 
however,  be  observed  that  the  newer  courts  are  more  sensibly  built  and  more 
decently  kept,  and  that  even  in  the  old  ones,  the  cottages  are  much  less  crowded 
than  in  Manchester  and  Liverpool,  wherefor  Birmingham  shows  even  during 
the  reign  of  an  epidemic  a far  smaller  mortality  than,  for  instance,  Wolver- 
hampton, Dudley  and  Billston,  only  a few  miles  distant.  Cellar  dwellings  are 
unknown,  too,  in  Birmingham,  though  a few  cellars  are  misused  as  workrooms. 
The  lodging  houses  for  proletarians  are  rather  numerous  (over  four  hundred) 
chiefly  in  courts  in  the  heart  of  the  town.  They  are  nearly  all  disgustingly 
filthy  and  ill-smelling,  the  refuge  of  beggars,  thieves,  tramps,  and  prostitutes, 
who  eat,  drink,  smoke  and  sleep  here  without  the  slightest  regard  to  comfort  or 
decency  in  an  atmosphere  endurable  to  these  degraded  beings  only.” 

Glasgow  is  in  many  respects  similar  to  Edinburgh,  possessing  the  same  wynds, 
the  same  tall  houses.  Of  this  city  the  Artizan  observes  : 

“ The  working  dass  forms  here  some  78  % of  the  whole  population  (about 
300,000)  and  lives  in  parts  of  the  city  which  exceed  in  wretchedness  and  squalor 
the  lowest  nooks  of  St.  Giles  and  Whitechapel,  the  Liberties  of  Dublin,  the 
Wynds  of  Edinburgh.  There  are  numbers  of  such  localities  in  the  heart  of  the 
city,  South  of  the  Trongate,  westward  from  the  Saltmarket,  in  Calton  and  off 
the  High  Street,  endless  labyrinths  of  lanes  or  wynds  into  which  open  at  almost  ; 
every  Step,  courts  or  blind  alleys,  formed  by  ill-ventilated,  high-piled,  waterless  ■ 
and  dilapidated  houses.  These  are  literally  swarming  with  inhabitants.  They  ' 
contain  three  or  four  families  upon  each  floor,  perhaps  twenty  persons.  In 
some  cases  each  story  is  let  out  in  sleeping  places,  so  that  fifteen  to  twenty  ' 
persons  are  packed,  one  on  top  of  the  other,  I cannot  say  accommodated,  in  a 
single  room.  These  districts  shelter  the  poorest,  most  depraved,  and  worthless 
members  of  the  community,  and  may  be  regarded  as  the  sources  of  those  fright- 
ful  epidemics  which,  beginning  here,  spread  desolation  over  Glasgow.” 

Let  US  hear  how  J.  C.  Symons,  Government  Commissioner  for  the  investiga-  , 
tion  of  the  condition  of  the  handweavers,  describes  these  portions  of  the  city 

*Arts  and  Artizans  at  Home  and  Abroad.  By  J.  C.  Symons,  Edinburg,  1839.  Theauthor,  as  i 
it  seems,  himself  a Scotchman,  is  a Liberal,  and  consequeutly  fanatically  oppostd  to  every  inde-  Z 
pendent  movement  of  workingmen.  The  passages  here  cited  are  to  be  found  p.  116  et.  seq. 


27 


“ I have  scen  wretchedness  in  some  of  its  worst  phases  both  höre  and  upon 
the  continent,  but  until  I visited  the  wynds  of  (Glasgow  I did  not  believe  that 
so  much  crime,  misery  and  disease  could  exist  in  any  civilized  country.  In  the 
lower  lodging-houses  ten,  twelve,  sometimes  twenty  persons  of  both  sexes,  all 
ages  and  various  degrees  of  nakedness,  sleep  indiscriminately  huddied  together 
upon  the  floor.  These  dwellings  are  usually  so  damp,  filthy  and  ruinous,  that 
no  one  could  wish  to  keep  his  horse  in  one  of  them.” 

And  in  another  place  . 

“The  wynds  of  Glasgow  contain  a fluctuating  population  of  fifteen  to  thirty 
thousand  human  beings.  This  quarter  consists  wholly  of  narrow  alleys  and 
square  courts  in  the  middle  of  every  one  of  which  there  lies  a düng  heap.  Re- 
volting  as  was  the  out  ward  appearance  of  these  courts,  I was  yet  not  prepared 
for  the  filth  and  wretchedness  within.  In  some  of  the  sleeping-places  which  we 
visited  at  night  (the  Superintendent  of  Police — Captain  Miller — and  Symons)  we 
found  a complete  layer  of  human  beings  stretched  upon  the  floor,  often  fifteen  to 
twenty,  some  clad,  others  naked,  men  and  women  indiscriminately.  Their  bed 
was  a litter  of  mouldy  straw,  mixed  with  rags.  There  was  little  or  no  furniture, 
and  the  only  thing  which  gave  these  dens  any  shimmer  of  habitableness  was  a 
fire  upon  the  hearth.  Theft  and  prostitution  form  the  chief  means  of  subsist- 
ence  of  this  population.  No  one  seemed  to  take  the  trouble  to  cleanse  this 
Augean  stable,  this  Pandemonium,  this  tangle  of  crime,  filth  and  pestilence  in 
the  centre  of  the  second  city  of  the  Kingdom.  An  extended  examination  of  the 
' lowest  districts  ofother  cities  never  revealed  anything  half  so  bad,  either  in  in- 
tensity  of  moral  and  physical  infection,  norin  comparative  density  of  population. 
In  this  quarter  most  of  the  houses  have  been  declared  by  the  Court  of  Guild 
ruinous  and  unfit  for  habitation,  but  precisely  these  are  the  most  densely  popu- 
lated,  because,  according  to  the  law,  no  rent  can  be  demanded  for  them.” 

The  great  manufacturing  district  in  the  center  of  the  British  Islands,  the 
thickly  peopled  Stretch  of  West  Yorkshire  and  South  Lancashire,  with  its 
numerous  factory  towns,  yields  nothing  to  the  other  great  manufacturing  centers. 
The  woolen  district  of  the  West  Riding  of  Yorkshire  is  a charming  region,  a 
beautiful  green  hill  country,  whose  elevations  grow  more  rugged  towards  the 
West  until  they  reach  their  highest  point  in  the  bold  ridge  of  Blackstone  Edge, 
the  watershed  between  the  Irish  Sea  and  the  German  Ocean.  The  valleys  of 
the  Aire  along  which  Stretches  Leeds,  and  of  the  Calder  through  which  the 
Manchester-Leeds  railway  runs,  are  among  the  most  attractive  in  England,  and 
are  strewn  in  all  directions  with  the  factories,  villages  and  towns.  The  houses 
of  rough  grey  stone  look  so  neat  and  clean  in  comparison  with  the  blackened 
brick  buildings  of  Lancashire,  that  it  is  a pleasure  to  look  at  them.  But  on 
Corning  into  the  towns  themselves,  one  finds  little  to  rejoice  over.  Leeds  lies  as 
the  Artizan  describes  it,  and  as  I found  confirmed  upon  examination:  “on  a gentic 
“ slope  that  descends  into  the  valley  of  the  Aire.  This  stream  flows  througJi 
“ the  city  for  about  a mile  and  a half  and  is  exposed  to  violent  floods  duiing 
“ tha WS  or  heavy  rain.  The  higher  Western  portions  of  the  city  are  clean  for 
“such  a large  town.  But  the  low  lying  districts  along  the  river  and  its  tribu- 
“ tary  becks  are  narrow,  dirty,  and  enough  in  themselves  to  shorten  the  livesof 
“ the  inhabitants,  especially  of  little  children.  Added  to  this,  the  disgusting 
/ “ state  of  the  workingmen's  districts  about  Kirkgate,  Marsh  Lane,  Cross  Street 
j “ and  Richmond  Road,  which  is  chiefly  attributable  to  their  unpaved,  drainless 
‘ Streets,  irregulär  architecture,  numerous  courts  and  alleys,  and  total  lack  of 


28 


“ the  most  ordinary  means  of  cleanliness,  all  this  taken  togeLher  is  explanation 
enough  of  the  excessive  mortality  in  these  unhappy  abodesof  filthy  misery.  In 
consequence  of  the  overflows  of  the  Aire”  (which,  it  must  be  added,  like  all 
other  rivers  in  the  Service  of  manufacture,  flows  into  the  city  at  one  end  clear 
and  transparent,  and  flows  out  at  the  other  end,  thick,  black  and  foul,  smelling 
of  all  possible  refuse)  “ the  houses  and  cellars  are  often  so  full  of  water  that 
“ they  have  to  be  pumped  out.  And  at  such  times  the  water  rises,  even  where 
there  are  sewers,  out  of  them  into  cellars  i engenders  miasmatic  vapors  strongly 
impregnated  with  sulphurated  hydrogen,  and  leaves  a disgusting  residuum 
highly  injurious  to  health.  Düring  the  spring-floods  of  1839  the  action  of 
such  a choking  of  the  sewers  was  so  injurious,  that,  according  to  the  report  of 
^ ‘ the  Registrar  of  Births  and  Deaths  for  this  part  of  the  city,  there  were  three 
deaths  to  two  births,  whereas  in  the  same  three  months,  in  every  other  part 
‘‘of  the  city,  there  were  three  births  to  two  deaths.  Other  thickly  populated 
“ districts  are  without  any  sewers  whatsoever,  or  so  badly  provided  as  to  derive 
no  benefit  from  them.  In  some  rows  of  houses  the  cellars  are  seldom  dry  ; 

“ in  certain  districts  there  are  several  streets  covered  with  soft  mud  a foot  deep. 

“ The  inhabitants  have  made  vain  attempts  from  time  to  time  to  repair  these 
“ Streets  with  shovelfulls  of  ashes,  but  in  spite  of  all  such  attempts,  düng  heaps 
“and  pools  of  dirty  water  emptied  from  the  houses,  fillall  the  holes  until  wind  and 
“ sun  dry  them  up.  2 An  ordinary  cottage  in  Leeds  occupies  not  more  than 
“ five  yards  square  of  land  and  usually  consists  of  a cellar,  a living  room  and 
“ one  sleeping-room.  These  contracted  dweliings,  filled  day  and  night  with 
“human  beings,  are  another  point  dangerous  alike  to  the  morals  and  the  health 
“of  the  inhabitants.”  And  how  greatly  these  cottages  are  crowded,  the  Report 
on  the  Health  of  the  Working  Classes,  quoted  above,  bears  testimony  : “ In 

“Leeds  we  found  brothers  and  sisters,  and  lodgers  of  both  sexes,  sharing  the 
“ parents’  sleeping-room,  whence  arise  consequences  at  the  contemplation  of 
“ which  human  feeling  shudders.” 

So,  too,  Bradford,  which,  but  seven  miles  from  Leeds  in  the  junction  of  several 
valleys,  lies  upon  the  banks  ofa  small,  coal-black,  foul-smelling  stream.  On 
week-days  the  town  is  enveloped  in  a grey  cloud  of  coal  smoke,  but  on  a fine 
Sunday  it  offers  a superb  pietnre,  when  viewed  from  the  surrounding  heights. 
Yet  within  reigns  the  same  filth  and  discomfort  as  in  Leeds.  The  older  por- 
tions  of  the  town  are  built  upon  steep  hillsides,  and  are  narrow  and  irregulär 
In  the  lanes,  alleys  and  courts  lie  filth  and  d^bris  in  heaps,  the  houses  are  ruin- 
ous,  dirty,  and  miserable,  and  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  river  and  the 
valley  bottom  I found  many  a one,  whose  ground-floor,  half  buried  in  the  hill- 
side,  was  totally  abandoned.  In  general,  the  portions  of  the  valley  bottom  in 
which  workingmen’s  cottages  have  crowded  between  the  tall  factories,  are  among  j' 
the  worst  built  and  dirtiest  districts  of  the  whole  town.  In  the  newer  portions  ' 
of  this,  as  of  every  other  factory  town,  the  cottages  are  more  regulär,  ) 

1 It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  these  cellars  are  not  mere  storing-rooms  for  rubbish,  but 
dweliings  of  human  beings. 

2 Compare  Report  of  the  Town  Council  in  the  Statistical  Journal,  vol.  2.  p.  404. 


— 2y  — 

being  built  in  rows,  but  Ihey  share  here.  too,  all  the  evils  incident  to  the 
customary  method  of  providing  workingmens’  dwellings,  evils  of  which  ^ve  shall 
have  occasion  to  speak  more  particularly  in  discussing  Manchester.  The  same 
is  true  of  the  remaining  towns  of  the  West  Riding,  especially  of  Barnsley, 
Halifax  and  Huddersfield.  The  last  named,  the  handsomest,  by  far,  of  all  the 
factory  towns  of  Yorkshire  and  Lancashire,  by  reason  of  its  charming  Situation 
and  modern  architecture  has  yet  its  bad  quarter  ; for  a committee  appointed  by 
a meeting  of  citizens  to  survey  the  town,  reported  Aug.  5th,  1844,  that : “ Itis 
“ nolorious  that  in  Huddersfield  whole  streets  and  niany  lanes  and  courts  are 
“ neither  paved  nor  supplied  with  sewers  nor  other  drains  ; that  in  them  refnse, 
“ d^bris  and  filth  of  every  sort  lies  accumulating,  festers  and  rots  and  that, 
“ nearly  everywhere,  stagnant  water  accumulates  in  pools,  in  consequence  of 
“ which  the  adjoining  dwellings  must  inevitably  be  bad  and  filthy,  so  that  in 
“such  places  diseases  arise  and  threaten  the  health  of  the  whole  town.” 

If  we  cross  Blackstone  Edge  or  penetrate  it  with  the  railroad,  we  enter  upon 
that  classic  soil  on  which  English  manufacture  has  achieved  its  masterwork  and 
from  which  all  labor  movements  emanate,  namcly,  South  Lancashire  with  its 
central  city  Manchester.  Again  we  have  beautiful  hill  country,  sloping  gently 
from  the  w^atershed  westwards  towards  the  Irish  Sea,  with  the  charming  green 
valleys  of  the  Ribble,  the  Irwell,  the  Mersey,  and  their  tributaries,  a country 
which  a hundred  years  ago  chiefly  swamp  land,  thinly  populated,  is  now  sown 
with  towns  and  villages,  and  is  the  most  densely  populated  Strip  of  country  in 
England.  In  Lancashire,  and  especially  in  Manchester,  English  manufacture 
finds  at  once  its  starting  point  and  its  centre.  The  Manchester  Exchange  is 
the  thermometer  for  all  the  fluctuations  of  trade.  The  modern  art  of  manu- 
facture has  reached  its  perfection  in  Manchester.  In  the  cotton  industry  of 
South  I^ancashire,  the  application  of  the  forces  of  Nature,  the  superseding  of 
handlabor  by  machinery,  (especially  by  the  power-loom  and  the  self-acting  mule) 
and  the  division  of  labor,  are  seen  at  the  highest  point;  and,  if  we  recognize  in 
these  three  elements  that  which  is  characteristic  of  modern  manufacture,  we 
must  confess  that  the  cotton  industry  has  remained  in  advance  of  all 
other  branches  of  industry  from  the  beginning  down  to  the  present  day. 
The  effects  of  modern  manufacture  upon  the  working  dass  must  neces- 
sarily  develop  here  most  freely  and  perfectly,  and  the  manufacturing 
Proletariat  present  itself  in  its  füllest  classic  perfection.  The  degradation  to 
which  the  application  of  steam-power,  machinery  and  the  division  of  labor 
reduce  the  workingman,  and  the  attempts  of  the  Proletariat  to  ^rise  above  this 
abasement,  must  likewise  be  carried  to  the  highest  point  and  with  the  füllest 
consciousness.  Hence  because  Manchester  is  the  classic  type  of  a modern 
manufacturing  town,  and  because  I know  it  as  intimately  as  my  own  native 
town,  more  intimately  than  most  of  its  residents  know  it,  we  shall  make  a longer 
stay  here. 

The  towns  surrounding  Manchester  vary  little  from  the  central  city,  so  far  as 
; the  working  peoples’  quarters  are  concerned,  except  that  the  working  dass  forms, 
\ if  possible,  a larger  prooortion  of  their  population.  These  towns  are  purely 


30 


industrial  and  conduct  all  their  business  through  Manchester  upon  which  they 
are  in  every  respect  dependent,  whence  ihey  are  inhabited  only  by  workingmen 
and  petty  tradesmen,  while  Manchester  has  a very  considerable  commercial 
Population,  especially  of  comniission  and  respectable  retail  dealers.  Hence 
Bolton,  Preston,  Wigan,  Bury,  Rochdale,  Middleton,  Heywood,  Oldham,  Ash- 
ton,  Stalybridge,  Stockport,  etc.,  though  nearly  all  towns  of  thirty,  fifty,  seven- 
ty  to  ninety  thousand  inhabitants,  are  almost  wholly  working  peoples’  districts, 
interspersed  only  with  factories,  a few  thoroughfares  lined  with  shops,  and  a 
few  lanes  along  which  the  gardens  and  houses  of  the  manufacturers  are  scattered 
like  villas.  The  towns  themselves  are  badly  and  irregularly  built  with  foul 
Courts,  lanes  and  back-alleys,  reeking  of  coal  smoke,  and  especially  dingy  from 
the  originally  bright  red  brick,  turned  black  with  time,  which  is  here  the  uni- 
versal building  material.  Cellar  dwellings  are  general  here  ; wherever  it  is  in  any 
way  possible,  these  subterranean  dens  are  constructed,  and  a very  considerable 
portion  of  the  population  dwells  in  them. 

Among  the  worst  of  these  towns  after  Preston  and  Oldham  is  Bolton,  eleven 
miles  northwest  of  Manchester.  It  has,  so  far  as  I have  been  able  to  observe 
in  my  repeated  visits,  but  one  main  Street,  a very  dirty  one,  Deansgate, 
which  serves  as  a market  and  is  even  in  the  finest  weather,  a dark  unattractive 
hole  in  spite  of  the  fact,  that,  except  for  the  factories,  its  sides  are  formed  by 
low  one  and  two-storied  houses.  Here,  as  every where,  the  older  part  of  the 
lown  is  especially  ruinous  and  miserable.  A dark-colored  body  of  water  which 
ieaves  the  beholder  in  doubt  whether  it  is  a brook  or  a long  string  of  stagnant 
puddles,  flows  through  the  town  and  contributes  its  share  to  the  total  pollution 
of  the  air,  by  no  means  pure  without  it. 

There  is  Stockport,  too,  which  lies  on  the  Cheshire  side  of  the  Mersey,  but 
belongs  nevertheless  to  the  manufacturing  district  of  Manchester.  It  lies  in  a 
narrow  valley  along  the  Mersey,  so  that  the  streets  slope  down  a steep  hill  on 
one  side  and  up  an  equally  steep  one  on  the  other,  while  the  railway  from  Man- 
chester to  Birmingham  passes  over  a high  viaduct  above  the  city  and  the  whole 
valley.  Stockport  is  renowned  throughout  the  entire  district  as  one  of  the  dusk- 
iest,  smokiest  holes,  and  looks,  indeed,  especially  when  viewed  from  the 
viaduct,  excessively  repellant.  But  far  more  repulsive  are  the  cottages  and 
cellar  dwellings  of  the  working  dass,  which  Stretch  in  long  rows  through  all 
parts  of  the  town  from  the  valley  bottom  to  the  crest  of  the  hill.  I do  not 
remember  to  have  seen  so  many  cellars  used  as  dwellings  in  any  other  town  of 
this  district. 

A few  miles  northeast  of  Stockport  is  Ashton-under-Lyne,  one  of  the  newest 
factory  towns  of  this  region.  It  Stands  on  the  slope  of  a hill  at  the  foot  of 
which  are  the  canal  and  the  river  Tarne,  and  is,  in  general,  built  on  the  newer, 
more  regulär  plan.  Five  or  six  parallel  streets  Stretch  along  the  hill  intersected 
at  right  angles  by  others  leading  down  into  the  valley.  By  this  method,  the 
factories  would  be  excluded  from  the  town  proper,  even  if  the  proximity  of  the 
river  and  the  canal-way  did  not  draw  them  all  into  the  valley  where  they  stand 
thickly  crowded,  belching  forth  black  smoke  from  their  chimneys.  To  this 


31 


arrangement  Ashton  owes  a much  more  attractive  appearance  than  that  of  most 
factory  towns  ; the  streets  are  broad  and  cleaner,  the  cottages  look  new,  brighi- 
red  and  comfortable.  But  the  modern  System  of  building  cottages  for  working- 
men  has  its  own  disadvantages  ; every  Street  has  its  concealed  rear  laue  to  whicli 
a narrow  paved  path  leads,  and  which  is  all  the  dirtier.  And,  although  I saw  no 
buildings,  except  a few  on  entering,  which  could  have  been  more  than  fifty 
years  old,  there  are  even  in  Ashton,  streets  in  which  the  cottages  are  getting 
bad,  where  the  bricks  in  the  honse-corners  are  no  longer  firm  but  shift  about, 
in  which  the  walls  have  cracks  and  will  not  hold  the  chalk  whitewash  inside; 
streets,  whose  dirty,  smoke-begrimed  aspect  is  nowise  different  from  that  of  the 
other  towns  of  the  district,  except  that  in  Ashton,  this  is  the  exception,  not  the 
rule. 

A mile  eastward  lies  Stalybridge,  also  on  the  Tarne.  In  coming  over  the  hill 
from  Ashton,  the  traveler  has,  at  the  top,  both  right  and  left,  fine  large  gardens 
with  superb  villa-like  houses  in  their  midst,  built  usually  in  the  Elizabethan  style, 
which  is  to  the  Gothic  precisely  what  the  Anglican  Church  is  to  the  Apostolic 
Roman  Catholic,  A hundred  paces  farther  and  Stalybridge  shows  itself  in  the 
valley,  in  sharp  contrast  with  the  beautiful  country  seats,  in  sharp  contrast  even 
with  the  modest  cottages  of  Ashton  ! Stalybridge  lies  in  a narrow,  crooked 
ravine,  much  narrower  even  than  the  valley  at  Stockport,  and  both  sides  of  this 
ravine  are  occupied  by  a disorderly  group  of  cottages,  houses  and  mills.  On 
entering,  the  very  first  cottages  are  narrow,  smoke-begrimed,  old  and  ruinous  ; 
and  as  the  first  houses,  so  the  whole  town.  A few  streets  lie  in  the  narrow 
valley  bottom,  most  of  them  run  criss-cross,  pell-mell,  up  hill  and  down,  and  in 
nearly  all  the  houses,  by  reason  of  this  sloping  Situation,  the  ground  floor  is 
half  buried  in  the  earth;  and  what  multitudes  of  courts,  back  lanes,  and  remote 
nooks  arise  out  of  this  confused  way  of  building  may  be  seen  from  the  hills 
whence  one  has  the  town,  here  and  there,  in  a bird’s-eye  view  almost  at  one’s 
feet.  Add  to  this  the  shocking  filth,  and  the  repulsive  effect  of  Stalybridge,  in 
spite  of  its  pretty  surroundings,  may  be  readily  imagined. 

But  enough  of  these  little  towns.  Each  has  its  own  peculiarities,  but  in 
general,  the  working  people  live  in  them  just  as  in  Manchester.  Hence  I have 
especially  sketched  only  their  peculiar  construction,  and  would  observe,  that  all 
more  general  observations  as  to  the  condition  of  the  laboring  population  in 
Manchester  are  fully  applicable  to  these  surrounding  towns  as  well. 

Manchester  lies  at  the  foot  of  the  Southern  slope  of  a ränge  of  hills,  which 
Stretch  hither  from  Oldham,  their  last  peak  Kersall-moor,  beingatonce  the  race- 
course  and  the  Mons  Sacer  of  Manchester.  Manchester  proper  lies  on  the  left  bank 
of  the  Irwell,  between  that  stream  and  the  two  smaller  ones,  the  Irk  and  the 
Medlock,  which  here  empty  into  the  Irwell.  On  the  left  bank  of  the  Irwell, 
bounded  by  a sharp  curve  of  the  river,  lies  Salford,  and  further  westward  Pendle- 
ton  ; northward  from  the  Irwell  lie  Upper  and  Lower  Broughton,  northward  of 
the  Irk,  Cheetham  Hill ; south  of  the  Medlock  lies  Hulme,  further  east  Chorlton 
on  Medlock;  still  further,  pretty  well  to  the  east  of  Manchester,  Ardwick.  The 
whole  assemblage  of  buildings  is  commonly  called  Manchester,  and  contains 


32 


about  four  hundred  thousand  inhabitants,  rather  more  than  less.  The  town 
itself  is  peculiarly  built,  so  that  a person  may  live  in  it  for  years,  and  go  in  and 
out  daily  without  coming  into  contact  with  a working  people’s  quarter  or  even 
with  workers,  that  is,  so  long  as  he  confines  himself  to  his  business  or  to  pleas- 
ure  walks.  This  arises  chiefly  from  the  fact,  that  by  unconscious  tacit  agree- 
ment  as  well  as  with  outspoken  conscious  determination,  the  working-people*s 
qiiarters  are  sharply  separated  from  the  sections  of  the  city  reserved  for  the 
middle  dass  ; or  if  this  does  not  succeed,  they  are  concealed  with  the  cloak  of 
charity.  Manchester  contains,  at  its  heart,  a rather  extended  commercial  district, 
perliaps  half  a mile  long  and  about  as  broad,  and  consisting  almost  wholly  of 
Offices  and  warehouses.  Nearly  the  whole  district  is  abandoned  by  dwdlers 
and  is  lonely  and  deserted  at  night ; only  watchmen  and  policemen  traverse  its 
narrow  laues  with  their  dark  lanterns.  This  district  is  cut  through  by  certain 
main  thoroughfares  upon  which  the  vast  traffic  concentrates,  and  in  which  the 
ground  level  is  lined  with  brilliant  shops.  In  these  streets  the  upper  floors  are 
occupied,  here  and  there,  and  there  is  a good  deal  of  life  upon  them  until  late 
at  night.  With  the  exception  of  this  commercial  district,  all  Manchester  proper, 
all  Salford  and  Hulme,  a great  part  of  Pendleton  and  Chorlton,  two-thirds  of 
Ardwick,  and  single  Stretches  of  Cheetham  Hill  and  Broughton  are  all  unmixed 
working  people’s  quarters,  Stretching  like  a girdle  averaging  a mile  and  a half  in 
breädth,  around  the  commercial  district.  Outside,  beyond  this  girdle,  lives  the 
Upper  and  middle  bourgeoisie,  the  middle  bourgeoisie  in  regularly  laid  out 
streets  in  the  vicinity  of  the  working  quarters,  especially  in  Chorlton  and  the 
lower  lying  portions  of  Cheetham  Hill,  the  upper  bourgeoisie  in  remoter  villas 
with  gardens  in  Chorlton  and  Ardwick,  or  on  the  breezy  heights  of  Cheetham 
Hill,  Broughton  and  Pendleton,  in  free,  wholesome  country  air,  in  fine  comfor- 
table  homes,  passed  once  every  half  or  quarter  hour  by  omnibuses  going  into 
the  city.  And  the  finest  part  of  the  arrangement  is  this,  that  the  members  of 
this  money  arislocracy  can  take  the  shortest  road  through  the  middle  of  all  the 
laboring  districts  to  their  places  of  business,  without  ever  seeing  that  they  are  in 
the  midst  of  the  grimy  misery  that  lurks  to  the  right  and  the  left.  For  the 
thoroughfares  leading  from  the  Exchange  in  all  directions  out  of  the  city,  are 
lined,  on  both  sides  with  an  almost  unbroken  series  of  shops,  and  are  so  kept  in 
the  hands  of  the  middle  and  lower  bourgeoisie,  which,  out  of  self-interest,  cares 
for  a decent  and  cleanly  external  appearance  and  can  care  for  it.  True,  these 
shops  bear  some  relation  to  the  districts  which  lie  behind  them  and  are  more 
elegant  in  the  commercial  and  residential  quarters  than  when  they  hide  grimy 
workingmen’s  dwellings  ; but  they  suffice  to  conceal  from  the  eyes  of  the 
wealthy  men  and  women  of  strong  stomachs  and  weak  nerves  the  misery  and 
grime  which  form  the  complement  of  their  wealth.  So,  for  instance,  Deansgate, 
which  leads  from  the  old  church  directly  southward,  is  lined  first  with  mills  and 
warehouses,  then  with  second-rate  shops  and  alehouses  ; further  south,  when  it 
leaves  the  commercial  district,  with  less  inviting  shops,  which  grow  dirtier  and 
more  interrupted  by  alehouses  and  gin  palaces  the  farther  one  goes,  until  at  the 
Southern  end  the  appearance  of  the  shops  leaves  no  doubt  that  workers  ^ind 


33 


workers  only  are  their  customers.  So  Market  Street  running  southeast  from 
ihe  Exchange  ; at  first  brilliant  shops  of  the  best  sort  with  counting  houses  or 
warehouses  above  ; in  the  continuation,  Piccadilly,  immense  hotels  and  ware- 
hoiises  ; in  the  farther  continuation,  London  Road,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Medlock,  factories,  alehouses,  shops  for  the  humbler  bourgeoisie  and  the  work- 
ing population,  and  from  this  point  onward,  great  gardens  and  country  seats  of 
the  wealthier  merchants  and  manufacturers.  In  this  way  any  one  who  knows 
Manchester  can  infer  the  adjoining  districts,  from  theappearance  of  the  thorough- 
fare,  but  one  is  seldom  in  a position  to  catch  from  the  Street  a glimpse  of  the 
real  laboring  districts.  I know  very  well  that  this  hypocritical  plan  is 
more  or  less  common  to  all  great  cities  ; I know,  too,  that  the  retail  dealers  are 
forced  by  the  nature  of  their  business  to  take  possession  of  the  great  highways  ; 
I know  that  there  are  more  good  buildings  than  bad  ones  upon  such  streets 
everywhere,  and  that  the  value  of  land  is  greater  near  them  than  in  remoter  dis- 
tricts ;but  at  the  same  time  I have  never  seen  so  systematic  a shutting  out  of  the 
working  dass  from  the  thoroughfares,  so  tender  a concealment  of  everything 
which  might  affront  the  eye  and  the  nerves  of  the  bourgeoisie,  asin  Manchester. 
And  yet,  in  other  respects,  Manchester  is  less  built  according  to  a plan,  after 
official  regulations,  is  more  an  outgrowth  of  accident,  than  any  other  city  ; and 
when  I consider  in  this  connection  the  eager  assurances  of  the  middle  dass,  that 
the  working  dass  is  doing  famously,  I cannot  help  feeling  that  the  liberal  manu- 
facturers, the  “ Big  Whigs”  of  Manchester  are  not  so  innocent,  after  all,  in  the 
matter  of  this  sensitive  method  of  construction. 

I may  mention  just  here  that  the  mills  almost  all  adjoin  the  rivers  or  the 
different  canals  that  ramify  throughout  the  city,  and  then  proceed  at  once  to  de- 
scribe  the  laboring  quarters.  First  of  all,  there  is  the  old  town  of  Manchester, 
which  lies  between  the  northern  boundary  of  the  commercial  districtand  the  Irk. 
Here  the  streets,  even  the  better  ones,  are  narrow  and  winding,  as  Todd  Street 
Long-Millgate,  Withy  Grove  and  Shude  Hill,  the  houses  dirty,  old  and  tumble- 
down,  and  the  construction  of  the  side  streets  utterly  horrible.  Going  from  the 
old  church  to  Long  Millgate,  the  stroller  has  at  once  a row  of  old-fashioned 
houses  at  the  right,  of  which  not  one  has  kept  its  original  level  ; these  are  rem- 
nants  of  the  old  pre-manufacturing  Manchester,  whose  former  inhabitants  have 
removed  with  their  descendents  into  better  built  districts,  and  have  left  the 
houses,  which  were  not  good  enough  for  them,  to  a population  strongly  mixed 
with  Irish  blood.  Here  one  is  in  an  almost  undisguised  workingmens’  quarter, 
for  even  the  shops  and  alehouses  hardly  take  the  trouble  to  exhibit  a trifling 
degree  of  cleanliness.  But  all  this  is  nothing  in  comparison  with  the  courts  and 
lanes  which  lie  behind,  to  which  access  can  be  gained  only  through  covered 
passages,  in  which  no  two  human  beings  can  pass  at  the  same  time.  Of  the 
disorderly  cramming  together  of  dwellings  in  ways  which  defy  all  rational  plan, 
of  the  tangle  in  which  they  are  crowded  literally  one  upon  the  other,  it  is  im- 
possible  to  convey  an  idea.  And  it  is  not  the  buildings  surviving  from  the  old 
times  of  Manchester  which  are  to  blame  for  this;  the  confusion  has  only  recently 
reached  its  height  when  every  scrap  of  space  left  by  the  old  way  of  building  has 


— 34  — 

been  filled  up  and  patched  over  until  not  a foot  of  land  is  left  to  be  further 
occupied. 

The  South  bank  of  the  Irk  is  here  very  steep  and  between  fifteen  and  thirty 
feet  high.  On  this  declivitous  hillside  there  are  planted  three  rows  of  houses,  of 
which  the  lowest  rise  directly  out  of  the  river,  while  the  front  walls  of  the  highest 
stand  on  the  crest  of  the  hill  in  Long  Millgate.  Among  them  are  mills  on  the 
river,  in  short,  the  method  of  construction  is  as  crowded  and  disorderly  here  as 
in  the  lower  part  of  Long  Millgate.  Right  and  left  a multitude  of  covered 
passages  lead  from  the  Main  Street  into  numerous  courts,  and  he  who  turns  in 
thither  gets  into  a filth  and  disgusting  grime,  the  equal  of  which  is  not  to  be 
found — especially  in  the  courts  which  lead  down  to  the  Irk,  and  which  contain 
nnqualifiedly,  the  most  horrible  dwellings  which  I have  yet  beheld.  In  one  of 
these  courts  there  Stands  directly  at  the  entrance,  at  the  end  of  the  covered 
passage  a privy  without  a door,  so  dirty  that  the  inhabitants  can  pass  into  and 
out  of  the  court  only  by  passing  through  foul  pools  of  stagnant  urine  and  excre- 
ment.  This  is  the  first  court  on  the  Irk  above  Ducie  Bridge — in  case  any  one 
should  care  to  look  into  it.  Below  it  on  the  river  there  are  several  tanneries 
which  fill  the  whole  neighborhood  with  the  stench  of  animal  putrefaction.  Be- 
low Ducie  Bridge  the  only  entrance  to  most  of  the  houses  is  by  means  of  narrow, 
dirty  stairs  and  over  heaps  of  refuse  and  filth.  The  first  court  below  Ducie 
Bridge,  known  as  Allen’s  Court,  was  in  such  a state  at  the  time  of  the  cholera 
that  the  sanitary  police  ordered  it  evacuated,  swept  and  disinfected  with  Chlor- 
ide of  lime.  Dr.  Kay  gives  a terrible  description  of  the  state  of  this  court  at 
that  time.*  Since,  then,  it  seems  to  have  been  partially  torn  away  and  rebuilt;  at 
least  looking  down  from  Ducie  Bridge,  the  passer-by  sees  several  ruined  walls 
and  heaps  of  debris  with  some  newer  houses.  The  view  from  this  bridge,  mer- 
cifully  concealed  from  mortals  of  small  stature  by  a parapet  as  high  as  a man,  is 
characteristic  for  the  whole  district.  At  the  bottom  flows,  or  rather  stagnates, 
the  Irk,  a narrow,  coal-black,  foul-smelling  stream,  full  of  debris  and  refuse,  which 
it  deposits  on  the  shallower  right  bank.  In  dry  weather,  a long  string  of  the  most 
disgusting  blackish-green  slime  pools  are  left  Standing  on  this  bank,  from  the 
depths  of  which  bubbles  of  miasmatic  gas  constantly  arise  and  give  forth  a 
Stench  unendurable  even  on  the  bridge  fortyor  fifty  feet  above  the  surface  of 
the  stream.  But  besides  this,  the  stream  itself  is  checked  every  few  paces  by 
high  weirs,  behind  which  slime  and  refuse  accumulate  and  rot  in  thick 
masses.  Above  the  bridge  are  tanneries,  bonemills  and  gasworks,  from  which 
all  drains  and  refuse  find  their  way  into  the  Irk,  which  receives  further  the  Con- 
tents of  all  the  neighboring  sewers  and  privies.  It  may  be  easily  imagined, 
therefore,  what  sort  of  residue  the  stream  deposits.  Below  the  bridge  you  look 


♦The  Moral  and  Physical  Condition  of  the  Working  Classes  employed  in  the  Cotton  Manufac- 
ture  in  Manchester.  By  James  Ph.  Kay,  M.  D.  and.  Ed.  1832. 

Dr.  Kay  confuses  the  working  dass  in  general  with  the  factory  workers,  otherwise  an  excellent 
Pamphlet. 


35 


upon  the  piles  of  d^bris,  the  refuse,  filth  and  offal  from  the  courts  on  the  steep 
left  bank  ; here  each  honse  is  packed  dose  behind  its  neighbor  and  a piece  of 
each  is  visible,  all  black,  sraoky,  cnimbling,  ancient,  with  broken  panes  and 
window  frames.  The  background  is  furnished  by  old  barrack-like  factory 
buildings.  On  the  lower  right  bank  Stands  a long  row  of  houses  and  mills  ; the 
second  house  being  a ruin  without  a roof,  piled  with  d^bris  ; the  third  Stands  so 
low  that  the  lowest  floor  is  uninhabitable,  and  therefore  without  Windows  ordoors. 
Here  the  background  embraces  the  pauper  burial  ground,  the  Station  of  the 
Liverpool  and  Leeds  railway,  and,  in  the  rear  of  this,  the  Workhouse,  the 
“ Poor-Law  Bastille”  of  Manchester,  which,  like  a citadel,  looks  threateningly 
down  from  behind  its  high  walls  and  parapets  on  the  hill  top,  upon  the  work- 
ing people’s  quarter  below. 

Above  Ducie  Bridge,  the  left  bank  grows  more  flat  and  the  right  bank  steeper, 
but  the  condition  of  the  dwellings  on  both  banks  grows  worse  rather  than  bet- 
ter.  He  who  turns  to  the  left  here  from  the  main  Street,  Long  Millgate,  is 
lost;  he  wanders  from  one  court  to  another,  turns  countless  corners,  passes  noth- 
ing but  narrow,  filthy  nooks  and  alleys,  until  after  a few  minutes  he  has  lost  all 
clues,  and  knows  not  whither  to  turn.  Eveiy  where  half  or  wholly  ruined  build- 
ings, some  of  them  actually  uninhabited,  which  means  a great  deal  here;  rarely 
a wooden  or  stone  floor  to  be  seen  in  the  houses,  almost  uniformly  broken,  ill- 
fitting  Windows  and  doors,  and  a state  of  filth!  Every where  heaps  of  debris, 
refuse  and  offal;  Standing  pools  for  gutters,  and  a stench  which  alone  would 
make  it  impossible  for  a human  being  in  any  degree  civilized  to  live  in  such  a 
district.  The  newly-built  extension  of  the  Leeds  railway  which  crosses  the  Irk 
here,  has  swept  away  some  of  these  courts  and  lanes,  laying  others  completely 
open  to  view.  Immediately  under  the  railway  bridge  there  Stands  a court,  the 
filth  and  horrors  of  which  surpass  all  the  others  by  far,  just  because  it  was 
hitherto  so  shut  off,  so  secluded  that  the  way  to  it  could  not  be  found  without  a 
good  deal  of  trouble.  I should  never  have  discovered  it  myself,  without  the 
breaks  made  by  the  railway,  though  I thought  I knew  this  whole  region  thor- 
oughly.  Passing  along  a rough  bank,  among  stakes  and  washing-lines,  one 
penetrates  into  this  chaos  of  small  one-storied,  one-roomed  huts,  in  most  of 
which  there  is  no  artificial  floor,  xitchen,  living  and  sleeping-room  all  in  one. 
In  such  a hole,  scarcely  five  feet  long  by  six  broad,  I found  two  beds — and  such 
bedsteads  and  beds! — which,  with  a staircase  and  chi.nney-place,  exactly  filled 
the  room.  In  several  others  I found  absolutely  nothing,  while  the  door  stood 
open,  and  the  inhabitants  leaned  against  it.  Everywhere  before  the  doors 
refuse  and  offal;  that  any  sort  of  pavement  lay  underneath  could  not  be  seen 
but  only  feit,  here  and  there,  with  the  feet.  This  whole  collection  of  cattle- 
sheds  for  human  beings  was  surrounded  on  two  sides  by  houses  and  a factory, 
and  on  the  third  by  the  river,  and  besides  the  narrow  stair  up  the  bank,  a nar- 
row doorway  alone  led  out  into  another  almost  equally  ill-built,  ill-kept  laby- 
rinth  of  dwellings. 

Enough!  The  whole  side  of  the  Irk  is  built  in  this  way,  a planless,  knotted 
chaos  of  houses,  more  or  less  on  the  verge  of  uninhabitableness,  whose  unclean 


36 


interiors  fully  correspond  with  their  filthy  external  surronndings.  And  how 
could  the  people  be  clean  with  no  proper  opportunity  for  satisfying  the  most 
natural  and  ordinary  wants  ? Privies  are  so  rare  here  that  they  are  either  filled 
np  every  day,  or  are  too  remote  for  most  of  the  inhabitants  to  use.  How  can 
people  wash  when  they  have  only  the  dirty  Irk  water  at  hand,  while  pumps  and 
water  pipes  can  be  found  in  decent  parts  of  the  city  alone?  In  truth,  it  cannot 
be  charged  to  the  account  of  these  helots  of  modern  society  if  their  dwellings 
are  not  more  cleanly  than  the  pig-pens  wliich  are  here  and  there  to  be  seen 
among  them.  The  landlords  are  not  ashamed  to  let  dwellings  like  the  six  or 
seven  cellars  on  the  quai  directly  below  Scotland  Bridge,  the  floors  of  which 
stand  at  least  two  feet  below  the  low-water  level  of  the  Irk  that  flows  not  six 
feet  away  from  them;  or  like  the  upper  floor  of  the  corner-house  on  the  opposite 
shore  directly  above  the  bridge,  where  the  ground  floor,  utterly  uninhabitable, 
Stands  deprived  of  all  Attings  for  doors  and  Windows,  a case  by  no  means  rare 
in  this  region,  when  this  open  ground  floor  is  used  as  a privy  by  the  whole  neigh- 
borhood  for  want  of  other  facilities  ! 

If  we  leave  the  Irk  and  penetrate  once  more  on  the  opposite  side  from  Long 
Millgate  into  the  midst  of  the  workingmen’s  dwellings,  we  shall  come  into  a 
• somewhat  newer  quarter,  which  Stretches  from  St.  Michael’s  Church  to  Withy 
Grove  and  Shudehill.  Here  there  is  somewhat  better  Order.  In  place  of  the 
chaos  of  buildings,  we  find  at  least  long  straight  laues  and  alleys  or  courts, 
built  according  to  a plan  and  usually  square.  But  if,  in  the  former  case, 
every  house  was  built  according  to  caprice,  here  each  lane  and  court  is  so  built, 
without  reference  to  the  Situation  of  the  adjoining  ones.  The  lanes 
run  now  in  this  direction,  now  in  that,  while  every  two  minutes  the  Wanderer 
gets  into  a blind  alley,  or,  on  turning  a corner,  finds  himself  back  where  he 
Started  from;  certainly  no  one  who  has  not  lived  a considerable  time  in  this 
labyrinth  can  find  his  way  through  it. 

If  I may  use  the  word  at  all  in  speaking  of  this  district,  the  Ventilation  of 
these  Streets  and  courts  is,  in  consequence  of  this  confusion,  quite  as  imperfect 
as  in  the  Irk  region;  and  if  this  quarter  may,  nevertheless,  be  said  to  have  some 
advantage  over  that  of  the  Irk,  the  houses  being  newer  and  the  streets  occasion- 
ally  having  gutters,  nearly  every  house  has,  on  the  other  hand,  a cellar  dwell- 
ing,  which  is  rarely  found  in  the  Irk  district,  by  reason  of  the  greater  age  and 
more  careless  construction  of  the  houses.  As  for  the  rest,  the  filth,  debris  and 
offal  heaps,  and  the  pools  in  the  streets  are  common  to  both  quarters,  and  in 
the  district  now  under  discussion,  another  feature  most  injurious  to  the  cleanli- 
ness  of  the  inhabitants,  is  the  multitude  of  swine  walking  about  in  all  the  alleys, 
rooting  into  the  offal  heaps,  or  kept  imprisoned  in  small  pens.  Here,  as  in 
most  of  the  workingmen’s  quarters  of  Manchester,  the  pork-raisers  rent  the 
courts  and  build  pig-pens  in  them.  In  almost  every  court  one  or  even  several 
such  pens  may  be  found,  into  which  the  inhabitants  of  the  court  throw  all  refuse 
and  offal,  whence  the  swine  grow  fat;  and  the  atmosphere,  confined  on  all  four 
sides,  is  utterly  corrupted  by  putrefying  animal  and  vegetable  substances. 
Through  this  quarter,  a broad  and  measurably  decent  Street  has  been  cut,  Mil- 


37 


lers  Street,  and  the  background  has  been  pretty  successfully  concealed.  But  if 
any  one  should  be  led  by  curiosity  to  pass  through  one  of  the  numerous  pass- 
ages  which  lead  into  the  courts,  he  will  find  this  piggery  repeated  at  every 
twenty  paces. 

Such  is  the  old  town  of  Manchester,  and  on  re-reading  my  description,  I am 
forced  to  admit  that  instead  of  being  exaggerated,  it  is  far  from  black  enovgh 
to  convey  a true  Impression  of  the  filth,  ruin  and  uninhabitableness,  the  defi- 
ance  of  all  considerations  of  cleanliness,  Ventilation  and  health  which  character- 
ize  the  construction  of  this  single  district,  containing  at  least  twenty  to  thirty 
thousand  inhabitants.  And  such  a district  exists  in  the  heart  of  the  second  city 
of  England,  the  first  manufacturing  city  of  the  world.  If  any  one  wishes  to 
see  in  how  little  space  a human  being  can  move,  how  little  air — and  such  air  ! 
he  can  breathe,  how  little  of  civilization  he  may  share  and  yet  live,  it  is  only 
necessary  to  travel  hither.  True,  this  is  the  old  Town,  and  the  people  of  Man- 
chester emphasize  the  fact  whenever  any  one  mentions  to  them  the  frightful 
condition  of  this  Hell  upon  Earth;  but  what  does  that  prove?  Every thing 
wdiich  here  arouses  horror  and  Indignation  is  of  recent  origin,  belongs  to  the 
industrial  epoch.  The  couple  of  hundred  houses,  w’hich  belong  to  old  Man- 
chester, have  been  long  since  abandoned  by  their  original  inhabitants;  the  in-  * 
dustrial  epoch  alone  has  crammed  into  them  the  swarms  of  workers  w’hom  they 
now  shelter;  the  industrial  epoch  alone  has  built  up  every  spot  between  these 
old  houses  to  win  a covering  for  the  masses  whom  it  has  conjured  hither  from 
the  agricultural  districts  and  from  Ireland;  the  industrial  epoch  alone  enables 
the  owners  of  these  cattle-sheds  to  rent  them  for  high  prices  to  human  be'ngs, 
to  plunder  the  poverty  of  the  workers,  to  undermine  the  health  of  thousands,  in 
Order  that  they  alone ^ the  owners,  may  grow  rieh.  In  the  industrial  epoch  alone 
has  it  become  possible  that  the  worker  scarcely  freed  from  feudal  servitude 
could  be  used  as  mere  material,  a mere  chattel;  that  he  must  let  himself  be 
crowded  into  a dwelling  too  bad  for  every  other,  which  he  for  his  hard-earned 
wages,  buys  the  right  to  let  go  utterly  to  ruin.  This  manufacture  has  achieved, 
which,  w ithout  these  workers,  this  povei-ty,  this  slavery  could  not  have  lived. 
True,  the  original  Situation  of  this  quarter  was  bad,  little  good  could  have  been 
made  out  of  it;  but,  have  the  land-owners,  has  the  municipality  done  anything 
to  improve  it  when  rebuilding?  On  the  contrary,  wherever  a nook  or  corner 
was  free,  a house  has  been  run  up;  where  a superfluous  passage  remained,  it 
has  been  built  up;  the  value  of  land  rose  with  the  blossoming  out  of  manufacture, 
and  the  more  it  rose,  the  more  madly  was  the  work  of  building  up  carried  on, 
without  reference  to  the  health  or  comfort  of  the  inhabitants,  with  sole  refer- 
ence  to  the  highest  possible  profit  on  the  principle  that  no  hole  is  so  bad  but  that 
some poor  creahive  must  take  it  who  can  pay  for  itothing  better.  Elowever,  it  is 
the  Old  Town,  and  with  this  reflection  the  bourgeoisie  is  comforted.  Let  us 
see,  therefore,  how  much  better  it  is  in  the  New  Town. 

The  New  Town,  known  also  as  Irish  Town,  Stretches  up  a hill  of  clay,  be- 
yond  the  Old  Town  between  the  Irk  and  St.  George’s  Road.  Here  all  the 
features  of  the  city  are  lost.  Single  rows  of  houses  or  groups  of  streets  stand, 


38 


here  and  there,  like  little  villages  on  the  naked,  not  even  g^ass-grown  clay  soil ; 
the  houses,  or  rather  cottages,  are  in  bad  order,  never  repaired,  filthy,  with 
damp,  unclean,  cellar  dwellings;  the  lanes  are  neither  paved  nor  supplied  with 
sewers,  but  harbor  numerous  colonies  of  swine  penned  in  small  sties  or  yards, 
or  wandering  unrestrained  through  the  neighborhood.  The  mud  in  the  streets 
is  so  deep  that  there  is  never  a chance,  except  in  the  dryest  weather,  of  walking 
without  sinking  into  it  ankle  deep  at  every  Step.  In  the  vicinity  of  St.  George’s 
Road,  the  separate  groups  of  buildings  approach  each  other  more  closely,  end- 
ing  in  a continuation  of  lanes,  blind  alleys,  back  lanes  and  courts,  which  grow 
more  and  more  crowded  and  disorderly  the  nearer  they  approach  the  heart  of 
the  town.  True,  they  are  here  offener  paved  or  supplied  with  paved  sidewalks 
and  gutters;  but  the  filth,  the  bad  order  of  the  houses,  and  especially  of  the  cel- 
lars,  remains  the  same. 

It  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  make  some  general  observations  just  here  as  to 
the  customary  construction  of  workingmen’s  quarters  in  Manchester.  We  have 
seen  how  in  the  Old  Town  pure  accident  determined  the  groupingof  the  houses 
in  general.  Every  house  is  built  without  reference  to  any  other,  and  the  scraps 
of  Space  between  them  are  called  courts  for  want  of  another  name.  In  the 
somewhat  newer  portions  of  the  same  quarter,  and  in  other  workingmen’s 
quarters,  dating  from  the  early  days  of  industrial  activity,  a somewhat  more 
orderly  arrangement  may  be  found,  The  space  between  two  streets  is  divided 
into  more  regulär,  usually  square  courts, 

These  courts  were  built  in  this  way  from  the  beginning,  and  communicate 
with  the  streets  by  means  of  covered  passages.  If  the  totally  planless  con- 
struction is  injurious  to  the  health  of  the  workers  by  preventing  Ven- 
tilation, this  method  of  shutting  them  up  in  courts  surrounded  on  all  sides  by 
buildings  is  far  more  so.  The  air  simply  cannot  escape;  the  chimneys  of  the 
houses  are  the  sole  drains  for  the  imprisoned  atmosphere  of  the  courts,  and  they 
serve  the  purpose  only  so  long  as  fire  is  kept  burning.*  Moreover,  the  houses 
surrounding  such  Courts  are  usually  built  back  to  back,  having  the  rear  wall  in 
common;  and  this  alone  suffices  to  prevent  any  sufficient  through  ventilatio^n. 
And,  as  the  police  charged  with  care  of  the  streets,  does  not  trouble  itself  about 
the  condition  of  these  courts,  as  every thing  quietly  lies  where  it  is  thrown, 
there  is  no  cause  for  wonder  at  the  filth  and  heaps  of  ashes  and  offal  to  be 
found  here.  I have  been  in  courts,  in  Millers  Street,  at  least  half  a foot  below 
the  level  of  the  thoroughfares,  and  without  the  slightest  drainage  for  the  water 
that  accumulates  in  them  in  rainy  weather!  More  recently  another,  different 
method  of  building  was  adopted,  and  has  now  become  general.  Workingmen’s 
cottages  are  almost  never  built  singly,  but  always  by  the  dozen  or  score;  a 
single  contractor  building  up  one  or  two  streets  at  a time.  These  are  then 
arranged  as  follows:  One  front  is  formed  of  cottages  of  the  best  dass,  so 

♦ And  yet  an  EngHsh  Liberal  wiseacre  asserts,  in  the  Report  of  the  Chüdrens*  Employment 
Commission,  that  these  courts  are  the  master-piece  of  municipal  architecture,  because  like  a 
multitude  of  little  parks  they  improve  Ventilation,  the  circulation  of  air  ! Certainly,  if  each 
Court  had  two  or  four  broad  open  entrances  facing  each  other,  through  which  the  air  could  pour; 
but  they  never  have  two,  rarely  one,  and  usually  only  a narrow  covered  passage. 


39 


fortunate  as  to  possess  a back  door  and  small  court,  and  these  command  th(.* 
highest  rent.  In  the  rear  of  these  cottages  runs  a narrow  alley,  the  back  Street, 
bullt  up  at  both  ends,  into  which  either  a narrow  roadway  or  a covered  passage 
leads  from  one  side.  The  cottages  which  face  this  back  Street  command  least 
rent,  and  are  most  neglected.  These  have  their  rear  walls  in  common  with  the 
third  row  of  cottages  which  face  a second  Street,  and  command  less  rent  than 
the  first  row  and  more  than  the  second. 

By  this  method  of  construction,  comparatively  good  Ventilation  can  be  ob- 
tained  for  the  first  row  of  cottages,  and  the  third  row  is  no  worse  off  than  in 
the  former  method.  The  middle  row,  on  the  other  hand,  is  at  least  as  badly 
ventilated  as  the  houses  in  the  courts,  and  the  back  Street  is  always  in  the  same 
filthy,  disgusting  condition  as  they.  The  contractors  prefer  this  method  be- 
cause  it  saves  them  space,  and  furnishes  the  means  of  fleecing  better  paid  work- 
ers  through  the  higher  rents  of  the  cottages  in  the  first  and  third  rows.  These 
three  different  forms  of  cottage  building  are  found  all  over  Manchester  and 
throughout  Lancashire  and  Yorkshire,  often  mixed  up  together,  but  usually 
separate  enough  to  indicate  the  relative  age  of  parts  of  towns.  The  third 
System,  that  of  the  back  alleys,  prevails  largely  in  the  great  workingmen's  dis- 
trict  east  of  St.  George’s  Road  and  Ancoats  Street,  and  is  the  one  most  often 
found  in  the  other  workingmen’s  quarters  of  Manchester  and  its  suburbs. 

In  the  last  mentioned  broad  distn’ct  included  under  the  name  Ancoats,  stand 
the  largest  mills  of  Manchester  lining  the  canals,  colossal  six  and  seven-storied 
buildings  towering  with  their  slender  chimneys  far  above  the  low  cottages  of 
the  workers.  The  population  of  the  district  consists,  therefore,  chiefly  of  mill 
hands,  and  in  the  worst  streets,  of  hand-weavers.  The  Streets  nearest  the  heart  of 
the  town  are  the  oldest,  and  consequently  the  worst;  they  are,  however,  paved, 
and  supplied  with  drains.  Among  them  I include  those  nearest  to  and  parallel 
with  Oldham  Road  and  Great  Ancoats  Street.  Further  to  the  Northeast  lie 
many  newly-built  up  streets;  here  the  cottages  look  neat  and  clean  ly,  doors  and 
Windows  are  new  and  freshly  painted,  the  rooms  within  newly  whitewashed; 
the  streets  themselves  are  better  aired,  the  vacant  building  lots  between  them 
larger  and  more  numerous.  But  this  can  be  said  of  a minority  of  the  houses  only, 
while  cellar  dwellings  are  to  be  found  under  almost  every  cottage,  many  streets 
are  unpaved  and  without  sewers;  and,  worse  than  all,  this  neat  appearance  is  all 
pretence,  a pretence  which  vanishes  within  the  first  ten  years.  For  the  con- 
struction of  the  cottages  individually  is  no  less  to  be  condemned  than  the  plan 
of  the  streets.  All  such  cottages  look  neat  and  substantial  at  first;  their 
massive  brick  walls  deceive  the  eye,  and,  on  passing  through  a newly-built 
workingmen's  Street,  without  remembering  the  back  alleys  and  the  construction 
of  the  houses  themselves,  one  is  inclined  to  agree  with  the  assertion  of  the 
Liberal  manufacturers  that  the  working  population  is  nowhere  so  well  housed  as 
in  England.  But  on  closer  examination,  it  becomes  evident  that  the  walls  of 
these  cottages  are  as  thin  as  it  is  possible  to  make  them.  The  outer  walls, 
those  of  the  cellar,  which  bear  the  weight  of  the  ground  floor  and  roof,  are  one 
whole  brick  thick  at  most,  the  bricks  lying  with  their  long  sides  touching;  but  1 


40 


liave  seen  many  a cottage  of  the  same  height,  some  in  process  of  building. 
whose  outer  walls  were  but  one-half  brick  thick,  the  bricks  lying  not  sidewise 
but  lengthwise,  their  narrow  ends  touching.  The  object  of  this  is  to  spare 
material,  but  there  is  also  another  reason  for  it;  namely,  the  fact  that  the  con- 
tiactors  never  own  the  land  but  lease  it,  according  to  the  English  custom,  for 
twenty,  thirty,  forty,  fifty,  or  ninety-nine  years,  at  the  expiration  of  which  time 
it  falls,  with  everything  upon  it,  back  into  the  possession  of  the  original  holder, 
who  pays  nothing  in  return  for  improvements  upon  it.  The  improvements  are 
therefore  so  calculated  by  the  lessee  as  to  be  worth  as  little  as  possible  at  the 
expiration  of  the  stipulated  term.  And  as  such  cottdges  are  often  built  but 
twenty  or  thirty  years  before  the  expiration  of  the  term,  it  may  easily  be  im- 
agined  that  the  contractors  make  no  unnecessary  expenditures  upon  them. 
Moreover,  these  contractors,  usually  carpenters  and  builders,  or  manufacturers, 
spend  little  or  nothing  in  repairs,  partly  to  avoid  diminishing  their  rent  receipts, 
and  partly  in  view  of  the  approaching  surrender  of  the  improvement  to  the  land- 
owner;  while  in  consequence  of  commercial  crises  and  the  loss  of  work  that 
follows  them,  whole  streets  often  stand  empty,  the  cottages  falling  rapidly 
into  ruin  and  uninhabitableness.  It  is  calculated  in  general  that  workingmen’s 
cottages  last  only  forty  years  on  the  average.  This  sounds  strangely  enough 
when  one  sees  the  beautiful,  massive  walls  of  newly-built  ones,  which  seem  to 
give  promise  of  lasting  a couple  of  centuries;  but  the  fact  remains  that  the  nig- 
gardliness  of  the  original  expenditure,  the  neglect  of  all  repairs,  the  frequent 
periods  of  emptiness,  the  constant  change  of  inhabitants,  and  the  destruction 
carried  on  by  the  dwellers  during  the  final  ten  years,  usually  Irish  families,  who 
do  not  hesitate  to  use  the  wooden  portions  for  fire-wood — all  this,  taken  to- 
gether,  accomplishes  the  complete  ruin  of  the  cottages  by  the  end  of  forty  years. 
Hence  it  comes  that  Ancoats,  built  chiefly  since  the  sudden  growth  of  manu- 
facture,  chiefly  indeed  within  the  present  Century,  contains  a vast  number  of 
ruinous  houses,  most  of  them  being,  in  fact,  in  the  last  stages  of  inhabitable- 
ness.  I will  not  dwell  upon  the  amount  of  Capital  thus  wasted,  the  small  addi- 
tional expenditure  upon  the  original  improvement  and  upon  repairs  which 
would  suffice  to  keep  this  whole  district  clean,  decent  and  inhabitable  for  years 
together.  I have  to  deal  here  with  the  state  of  the  houses  and  their  inhabitants, 
and  it  must  be  admitted  that  no  more  injurious  and  demoralizing  method  of 
housing  the  workers  has  yet  been  discovered  than  precisely  this.  The  working- 
man  is  constrained  to  occupy  such  ruinous  dwellings  because  he  cannot  pay  for 
others,  and  because  there  are  no  others  in  the  vicinity  of  his  mill;  perhaps,  too, 
because  they  belong  to  the  employer,  who  engages  him  only  on  condition  of  his 
taking  such  a cottage.  The  calculation  with  reference  to  the  forty  years’  dura- 
tion  of  the  cottage  is,  of  course,  not  always  perfectly  strict;  for,  if  the  dwellings 
be  in  a thickly-built  up  portion  of  the  town,  and  there  is  a good  prospect  of 
finding  steady  occupants  for  them,  while  the  ground  rent  is  high,  the  contractors 
do  a little  something  to  keep  the  cottages  inhabitable  after  the  expiration  of  the 
forty  years.  They  never  do  anything  more,  how^ever,  than  is  absolutely  un- 
avoidable,  and  the  dwellings  so  repaired  are  the  worst  of  all.  Occasionally  when 


41 


an  epidemic  threatens,  the  otherwise  sleepy  conscience  of  the  sanitary  police  is 
a little  stirred,  raids  are  made  into  the  workingmen’s  districts,  whole  rows  of  cel- 
lars  and  cottages  are  closed,  as  happened  in  the  case  of  several  lanes  near  Oldham 
Road;  but  this  does  not  last  long,  the  condemned  cottages  soon  find  occupants 
again,  the  owners  are  much  better  off  by  letting  them,  and  the  sanitary  police 
won’t  come  again  so  soon.  These  east  and  northeast  sides  of  Manchester  are 
the  only  ones  on  which  the  bourgeosie  has  not  built,  because  ten  or  eleven 
months  of  the  year  the  west  and  Southwest  wind  drives  the  smoke  of  all  the 
factories  hither,  and  that  the  working  people  alone  may  breathe. 

Southward  from  Great  Ancoats  Street,  lies  a great,  straggling,  workingmen’s 
quarter,  a hilly,  barren  Stretch  of  land,  occupied  by  detached  irregularly  built 
rows  of  houses  or  squares,  between  these,  empty  building  lots,  uneven,  clayey, 
without  grass  and  scarcely  passable  in  wet  weather.  The  cottages  are  all  filthy 
and  old,  and  recall  the  New  Town  to  mind.  The  Stretch  cut  through  by  the 
Birmingham  railway  is  the  most  thickly  built  up  and  the  worst.  Here  flows  the 
Medlock  with  countless  windings  through  a valley,  which  is,  in  places,  on  a 
level  with  the  valley  of  the  Irk.  Along  both  sides  of  the  stream,  which  is  coal 
black,  stagnant  and  foul,  Stretches  a broad  beit  of  factories  and  workingmen’s 
dwellings,  the  latter  all  in  the  worst  condition.  The  bank  is  chiefly  declivitous 
and  is  built  over  to  the  water’s  edge,  just  as  we  säw  along  the  Irk  ; while  the 
houses  are  equally  bad,  whether  built  on  the  Manchester  side  or  in  Ardwick, 
Chorlton  or  Hulme.  But  the  most  horrible  spot,  (if  I should  describe  all  the 
separate  spots  in  detail  I should  never  come  to  the  end),  lies  on  the  Manchester 
side,  immediately  Southwest  of  Oxford  Road,  and  is  known  as  Little  Ireland.  In 
a rather  deep  hole,  in  a curve  of  the  Medlock  and  surrounded  on  all  four  sides 
by  tall  factories  and  high  embankments,  covered  with  buildings,  stand  two  groups 
of  about  two  hundred  cottages,  built  chiefly  back  to  back,  in  which  live  about 
four  thousand  human  beings,  most  of  them  Irish.  The  cottages  are  old,  dirty, 
and  of  the  smallest  sort,  the  streets  uneven,  fallen  into  ruts  and  in  part  without 
drains  or  pavement ; masses  of  refuse,  offal  and  sickening  filth  lie  among  Stand- 
ing pools  in  all  directions;  the  atmosphere  is  poisoned  by  the  effluviafrom  these, 
and  laden  and  darkened  by  the  smoke  of  a dozen  tall  factory  chimneys.  A horde 
of  ragged  women  and  children  swarm  about  here,  as  filthy  as  the  swine  that 
thrive  upon  the  garbage  heaps  and  in  the  puddles.  In  short,  the  whole  rookery 
furnishes  such  a hateful  and  repulsive  spectacle  as  can  hardly  be  equalled  in  the 
worst  court  on  the  Irk.  The  race  that  lives  in  these  ruinous  cottages,  behind 
broken  Windows,  mended  with  oilskin,  Sprung  doors  and  rotton  door-posts,  or 
in  dark,  wet  cellars,  in  measureless  filth  and  stench,  in  this  atmosphere  penned 
in  as  if  with  a purpose,  this  race  must  really  have  reached  the  lowest  stage  of 
humanity.  This  is  the  impression  and  the  line  of  thought  which  ihe  exterior  of 
this  district  forces  upon  the  beholder.  But  what  must  one  think  when  he  lears 
that  in  each  of  these  pens,  containing  at  most  two  rooms,  a garret  and  perhaps 
a cellar,  on  the  average  twenty  human  beings  live  ; that  in  the  whole  region,  for 
each  one  hundred  and  twenty  persons  one  usually  inaccessible  privy  isprovided  ; 
and  that  in  spite  of  all  the  preaching  of  the  physicians,  inspiteof  the  excitement 


42 


into  which  the  cholera  epidemic  plunged  the  sanitary  police  by  reason  of  the 
condition  of  Little  Ireland,  in  spite  of  everything,  in  this  year  of  grace  1844,  it 
is  in  almost  the  same  state  as  in  1831  I Dr.  Kay  asserts  that  not  only  the 
cellars  but  the  first  floors  of  all  the  houses  in  this  district  are  damp  ; that  a 
nnmber  of  cellars  once  filled  up  with  earth  have  now  been  emptied  and  are 
occupied  once  more  by  Irish  people  ; that  in  one  cellar  the  water  constantly 
Wells  Up  through  a hole  stopped  with  clay,  the  cellar  lying  below  the  river  level, 
so  that  its  occupant,  a handloom  weaver  had  to  sop  up  the  water  from  his 
dwelling  every  morning  and  pour  it  into  the  Street ! 

Further  down,  on  the  left  side  of  the  Medlock  lies  Hulme,  which,  properly 
speaking,  is  one  great  working  people’s  district,  the  condition  of  which  coincides 
almost  exactly  with  that  of  Ancoats;  the  more  thickly  built  up  regions  chiefly 
bad  and  approaching  ruin,  the  less  populous  of  more  modern  structure  but 
generally  sunk  in  filth.  On  the  other  side  of  the  Medlock,  in  Manchester 
proper,  lies  a second  great  workingmen’s  district  which  Stretches  on  both  sides 
of  Deansgate  as  far  as  the  business  quarter  and  in  certain  parts  rivals  the  Old 
Town.  Especially  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  business  quarter,  between 
Bridge  and  Quay  Streets,  Princess  and  Peter  Streets,  the  crowded  construction 
exceeds  in  places  the  narrowest  courts  of  the  Old  Town.  Here  are  long, 
narrow  lanes  between  which  run  contracted,  crooked  courts  and  passages,  the 
entrances  to  which  are  so  irregulär  that  the  explorer  is  caught  in  a blind  alley  at 
every  few  Steps  or  comes  out  where  he  least  expects  to,  unless  he  knows  every 
court  and  every  alley  exactly  and  separately.  According  to  Dr.  Kay,  the  most 
demoralized  dass  of  all  Manchester  lived  in  these  ruinous  and  filthy  districts, 
people  whose  occupations  are  thieving  and  Prostitution  ; and,  to  all  appearance, 
his  assertion  is  still  true  at  the  present  moment.  When  the  sanitary  police 
made  its  expedition  hither  in  1831,  it  found  the  uncleanness  as  great  as  in  Little 
Ireland  or  along  the  Irk,  (that  it  is  not  much  better  to-day,  I can  testify)  ; and 
among  other  items,  they  found  in  Parliament  Street  for  three  hundred  and  eighty 
persons,  and  in  Parliament  Passage  for  thirty  thickly  populated  houses  but  a 
single  privy. 

If  we  cross  the  Irwell  to  Salford,  we  find  on  a peninsula  formed  by  the  river, 
a town  of  eighty  thousand  inhabitants,  which,  properly  speaking,  is  one  large 
workingmen’s  quarter,  penetrated  by  a single  wide  avenue.  Salford,  once  more 
important  than  Manchester,  was  then  the  leading  town  of  the  surrounding  dis- 
trict to  which  it  still  gives  its  name,  Salford  Hundred.  Hence  it  is  that  an  old 
and  therefore  very  unwholesome,  dirty  and  ruinous  locality  is  to  be  found  here, 
lying  opposite  the  Old  Church  of  Manchester,  and  in  as  bad  a condition  as  the 
Old  Town  on  the  other  side  of  the  Irwell.  Farther  away  from  the  river  lies  the 
ne  wer  portion,  which  is,  however,  already  beyond  the  limit  of  its  forty  years  of 
cottage  life  and  therefore  ruinous  enough.  All  Salford  is  built  in  courts  or 
narrow  lanes,  so  naiTOw,  that  they  remind  me  of  the  narrowest  I have  ever  seen, 
the  little  lanes  of  Genoa.  The  average  construction  of  Salford  is  in  this  respect 
much  worse  than  that  of  Manchester,  and  so,  too,  in  respect  to  cleanliness.  If, 
in  Manchester,  the  police,  from  time  to  time,  every  six  or  ten  years  makes  a raid 


43 


upon  the  working  peoples’  districts,  dose  the  worst  dwellings,  and  causes  the 
filthiest  spots  in  these  Augean  stables  to  be  cleansed,  in  Salford  it  seems  tohave 
done  absolutely  nothing.  The  narrow  side  lanes  and  courts  of  Chapel  Street, 
Greengate,  and  Gravel  Lane  have  certainly  never  been  cleansed  since  they  were 
built.  Of  late,  the  Liverpool  railway  has  been  carried  through  the  middle  of 
them,  over  a high  viaduct,  and  has  abolished  many  of  the  filthiest  nooks;  but 
vvhat  does  that  avail?  Whoever  passes  over  this  viaduct  and  looks  down,  sees 
filth  and  wretchedness  enough;  and,  if  any  one  takes  the  trouble  to  pass  through 
these  lanes,  and  glance  through  the  open  doors  and  Windows  into  the  houses 
and  cellars,  he  can  convince  himself  afresh  with  every  Step  that  the  workers  of 
Salford  live  in  dwellings  in  which  cleanliness  and  comfort  are  impossible.  Ex- 
actly  the  same  state  of  affairs  is  found  in  the  more  distant  regions  of  Salford,  in 
Islington,  aiong  Regent  Road,  and  back  of  the  Bolton  railway.  The  working- 
men’s  dwellings  between  Oldfield  Road  and  Cross  Lane,  where  a mass  of  courts 
and  alleys  are  to  be  found  in  the  w^orst  possible  state,  vie  with  the  dwellings  of 
the  Old  Town  in  filth  and  overcrowding.  In  this  district  I found  a man,  ap>- 
parently  about  sixty  years  old,  living  in  a cow-stable.  He  had  constructed  a 
sort  of  chimney  for  his  square  pen  which  had  neither  Windows,  floor,  nor  ceil- 
ing,  had  obtained  a bedstead  and  lived  there,  though  the  rain  dripped  through 
his  rotten  roof.  This  man  was  too  old  and  weak  for  regulär  work,  and  sup- 
ported  himself  by  removing  manure  with  a hand-cart;  the  düng  heaps  lay  nex: 
door  to  his  palace! 


Such  are  the  various  working  peoples*  quarters  of  Manchester  as  I had  occa- 
sion  to  observe  them  personally  during  twenty  months.  If  we  briefly  formulate 
the  result  of  our  wanderings,  we  must  admit  that  350,000  working  people  of 
Manchester  and  its  environs  live,  almost  all  of  them,  in  wretched,  damp,  filthy 
Cottages,  that  the  streets  which  surround  them  are  usually  in  the  most  miserable 
and  filthy  condition,  laid  out  without  the  slightest  reference  to  Ventilation,  with 
reference  solely  to  the  profit  secured  by  the  contractor.  / In  a word,  we  must 
confess  that  in  the  workingmen’s  dwellings  of  Manchester,  no  cleanliness,  no 
convenience,  and  consequently  no  comfortable  family  lifc  is  possible;  that  in 
such  dwellings  only  a physically  degeneratc  race,  robbed  of  all  humanity,  de- 
graded,  reduced  morally  and  physically  to  bestiality,  could  feel  comfortable  and 
at  home.  j And  I am  not  alone  in  making  this  assertion.  We  have  seen  th^ 
Dr.  Kay  gives  precisely  the  same  description;  and,  though  it  is  superfluous,  I 
quote  further  the  words  of  a Liberal,  recognized  and  highly  valued  as  an 
authority  by  the  manufacturers  and  a fanatical  Opponent  of  all  independent 
movements  of  the  workers: 


* “ As  I passed  through  the  dwellings  of  the  mill  hands  in  Irish  Town, 
Ancoats  and  Little  Ireland,  I was  only  amazed  that  it  is  possible  to  maintain  a 
reasonable  state  of  health  in  such  homes.  These  towns,  for  in  extent  and  num- 
ber  of  inhabitants  they  are  towns,  have  been  erected  with  the  utmost  disregard 
of  everything  except  the  immediate  advantage  of  the  speculating  builder.  A 


* Nassar.  W.  Senior’  Leiters  on  the  Factory  Act  to  the  Rt.  Hon.  the  President  ot  the  Board 
of  Trade  (Chas.  Poulet  Thompson  Esq.,)  London,  1837,  p.  24, 


44 


carpenter  and  builder  unite  to  buy  a series  of  buildin^f  sites  {t.  e.,  they  lease 
them  for  a number  of  years)  and  cover  them  with  so-called  houses.  In  one 
place  we  found  a whole  Street  following  the  course  of  a ditch,  because  in  this 
vvay  deeper  cellars  could  be  secured  without  the  cost  of  digfging,  cellars  not  for 
störing  wares  or  rubbish,  but  for  dwellings  for  human  beings.  Not  one  house 
of  this  Street  escaped  the  cholem.  In  general,  the  Streets  of  these  suburbs  are 
unp.ived,  with  a düng  heap  or  ditch  in  the  middle;  the  houses  are  built  back  to 
back,  without  Ventilation  or  drainage,  and  whole  families  are  limited  to  a corner 
of  a cellar  or  a garret."  I have  already  referred  to  the  unusual  activity  which 
the  sanitary  police  manifested  during  the  cholera  Visitation.  When  the  epidemic 
was  approaching,  a universal  terror  seized  the  bourgeosie  of  the  city.  People 
remembered  the  unwholesome  dwellings  of  the  poor,  and  trembled  before  the 
certainty  that  each  of  these  slums  would  become  a center  for  the  plague,  whence 
it  would  spread  desolation  in  all  directions  through  the  houses  of  the  propertied 
dass.  A Health  Commission  was  appointed  at  once  to  investigate  these  dis- 
tricts,  and  report  upon  their  condition  to  the  Town  Council.  Dr.  Kay,  himself 
a member  of  this  commi:sion,  who  visited  in  person  every  separate  police  dis- 
trict  except  one,  the  eleventh,  quotes  extracts  from  their  reports:  There  were 
inspected,  in  all,  6,951  houses — naturally  in  Manchester  proper  alone,  Salford 
and  the  other  suburbs  being  excluded.  Of  these,  6,565  urgently  needed  white- 
washing  within;  960  were  out  of  repair;  939  had  insufficient  drains;  1,435  were 
damp;  452  were  badly  ventilated;  2,221  were  without  privies.  Of  the  687 
Streets  inspected,  248  were  unpaved,  53  but  partially  paved,  112  ill-ventilated, 
352  contained  Standing  pools,  heaps  of  debris,  refuse,  etc.  To  cleanse  such  an 
Augean  stable  before  the  arrival  of  the  cholera  was,  of  course,  out  of  the  ques- 
tion.  A few  of  the  worst  nooks  were  therefore  cleansed,  and  everything  eise 
left  as  before.  In  the  cleansed  Spots,  as  Little  Ireland  proves,  the  old  filthy 
condition  was  naturally  restored  in  a couple  of  months.  As  to  the  internal  con- 
dition of  these  houses,  the  same  Commission  reports  a state  of  things  similar  to 
that  which  we  have  already  met  with  in  London,  Edinburgh,  and  other 
cities.* 

It  often  happens  that  a whole  Irish  family  is  crowded  into  one  bed;  often  a 
heap  of  filthy  straw  or  quilts  of  old  sacking  cover  all  in  an  indiscriminate  heap, 
where  all  alike  are  degraded  by  want,  stolidity,  and  wretchedness.  Often  the 
inspectors  found,  in  a single  house,  two  families  in  two  rooms.  All  slept  in 
one,  and  used  the  other  as  a kitchen  and  dining-room  in  common.  Often  more 
than  one  family  lived  in  a single  damp  cellar,  in  whose  pestilent  atmosphere 
twelve  to  sixteen  persons  were  crowded  together.  To  these  and  other  sources- 
of  disease  must  be  added  that  swine  were  kept,  and  other  disgusting  things  of 
the  most  revolting  kind  were  found. 

We  must  add  that  many  families,  who  have  but  one  room  for  themselves,  re- 
ceive  boarders  and  lodgers  in  it,  that  such  lodgers  of  both  sexes  by  no  means 
rarely  sleep  in  the  same  bed  with  the  married  couple;  and  that  the  single  case  of 
a man  and  his  wife  and  his  adult  sister-in-law  sleeping  in  one  bed  was  found, 


Kay,  loc.  cit.,  p.  32. 


45 


according  to  the  “ Report  concerning  the  sanitary  condition  of  the  working 
class,”six  tiines  repeated  in  Manchester.  Common  lodging-houses,  too,  are 
very  numeroiis;  Dr.  Kay  gives  their  number  in  1831  at  267  in  Manchester 
proper,  and  they  must  have  increased  greatly  since  then.  Each  of  these  receives 
from  twenty  to  thirty  guests,  so  that  they  shelter  all  told,  nightly,  from  five  to 
seven  thousand  human  beings.  The  character  of  the  houses  and  their  guests  is 
the  same  as  in  other  cities.  Five  to  seven  beds  in  each  room  lie  on  the  floor — 
without  bedsteads,  and  on  these  sleep,  mixed  indiscriminately,  as  many  persons 
as  apply.  What  physical  and  moral  atmosphere  reigns  in  these  holes  I need 
not  state.  Each  of  these  houses  is  a focus  of  crime,  the  scene  of  deeds  against 
which  human  nature  revolts,  which  would  perhaps  never  have  been  executed  but 
for  this  forced  centralization  of  vice.  *Gaskell  gives  the  number  of  persons 
living  in  cellars  in  Manchester  proper  as  20,000.  The  Weekly  Dispatch  gives 
the  number,  “ according  to  official  reports,”  as  twelve  per  cent.  of  the  working 
dass  which  agrees  with  Gaskell’s  number;  the  workers  being  estimated  at 
175,000,  21,000  would  form  twelve  per  cent.  of  it.  The  cellar  dwellings  in  the 
suburbs  are  at  least  as  numerous,  so  that  the  number  of  persons  living  in  cellars 
in  Manchester — using  the  name  in  its  broader  sense — is  not  less  than  forty  to  fifty 
thousand.  So  much  for  the  dwellings  of  the  workers  in  the  largest  cities  and 
towns.  The  manner  in  which  the  need  of  a shelter  is  satisfied  furnishes  a 
Standard  for  the  manner  in  which  all  other  necessities  are  supplied.  That  in 
these  filthy  holes  a ragged,  ill-fed  population  alone  can  dw^ell  is  a safe  conclu- 
sion,  and  such  is  the  fact.  The  clothing  of  the  w^orking  people,  in  the  majority 
of  cases,  is  in  a very  bad  condition.  The  material  used  for  it  is  not  of  the  best 
adapted.  Wool  and  linen  have  almost  vanished  from  the  wardrobe  of  both 
sexes,  and  cotton  has  taken  their  place.  Shirts  are  made  of  bleached  or  colored 
cotton  goods,  the  dresses  of  the  women  are  chiefly  of  cotton  print  goods,  and 
woollen  Petticoats  are  rarely  to  be  seen  on  the  washline.  The  men  wear  chiefly 
trousers  of  fustian  or  other  heavy  cotton  goods,  and  jackets  or  coats  of  the  same. 
Fustian  has  become  the  proverbial  costume  of  the  workingmen,  who  are  caüed 
“ fustian  jackets,”  and  call  themselves  so  in  contrast  to  the  gentlemen  w’ho  wear 
broadcloth,  which  latter  word  is  used  as  characteristio  for  the  middle  dass. 
When  Fergus  O’Connor,  the  Chartist  Leader,  came  tc  Manchester  during  the 
insurrection  of  1842,  he  appeared,  amidst  the  deafening  applause  of  the  working- 
men, in  a fustian  suit  of  clothing.  Hats  are  the  universal  head-covering  in 
England,  even  for  w'orkingmen.  hats  of  the  most  diverse  forms,  round,  high, 
broad-brimmed,  narrow-brimmed,  or  without  brims — only  the  younger  men  in 


* P.  Gaskeil,  the  Manufacturing  Population  of  England,  its  Moral,  Social  and  Physical  Con- 
dition, and  the  Changes  which  have  arisen  from  the  use  of  Steam-Machinery,  With  an  examina- 
tion  of  Infant  Labor.  “Fiat  Justitia,”  1833. — Depicting  chiefly  the  state  of  the  working  dass  in 
Lancashire.  The  author  is  a Liberal,  but  wrote  at  a time  when  it  was  not  a feature  of  Liberali^m 
to  chant  the  happiness  of  the  workers.  He  is  therefore  unprejudiced,  and  can  afford  to  have 
eyes  for  ihe  evils  of  the  present  state  of  things,  and  especially  for  the  factory  System.  On  the 
other  hand,  he  wrote  before  the  Faciories  Enquiry  Commission,  and  adopts  from  untrustworthy 
sources  many  a.ssertions  afterwards  refuted  by  the  Report  of  the  Commission.  This  work, 
although  on  the  whole  a valuable  one,  can  therefore  only  be  used  with  discretion,  especially  as 
the  author  like  Kay,  confuses  the  whole  working  dass  with  the  mill  hands.  The  hisiory  of  the 
development  of  the  Proletariat  contained  in  the  introduction  to  the  present  work,  is  chiefly  taken 
from  this  work  of  Gaskeil  s. 


- 46  - 

factory  townvS  wearing  caps.  Any  one  who  does  not  own  a hat  folds  himself  a 
low,  square  paper  cap. 

The  whole  clothing  of  the  working  dass,  even  assuming  it  to  be  in  good 
condition,  is  little  adapted  to  the  climate.  The  damp  air  of  England,  with  its 
sudden  changes  of  temperature,  more  calculated  than  any  other  to  give  rise  to 
colds,  obliges  almost  the  whole  middle  dass  to  wear  flannel  next  the  skin,  about 
the  body,  and  flannel  scarfs  and  shirts  are  in  almost  universal  use.  Not  only 
is  the  working  dass  deprived  of  this  precaution,  it  is  scarcely  ever  in  a position 
to  use  a thread  of  woollen  clothing;  and  the  heavy  cotton  goods,  though  thicker, 
stiffer  -and  heavier  than  woollen  dothes,  afford  much  less  protection  against  cold 
and  wet,  remain  damp  much  longer  because  of  their  thickness  and  the  nature 
of  the  stuff,  and  have  nothing  of  the  compact  density  of  fulled  woollen  cloths. 
And,  if  a workingman  once  buys  himself  a woollen  coat  for  Sunday,  he  must 
get  it  from  one  of  the  cheap  shops  where  he  finds  bad,  so-called  “ Devil’s-dust  ” 
doth,  manufactured  for  sale  and  not  for  use  and  liable  to  tear  or  grow  thread- 
bare  in  a fortnight,  or  he  must  buy  of  an  old-clothes  dealer  a half-worn  coat 
which  has  seen  its  best  days,  and  lasts  but  a few  weeks.  Moreover,  the  work- 
ingman’s  clothing  is,  in  most  cases,  in  bad  condition,  and  there  is  the  oft-recur- 
ring  necessity  for  placing  the  best  pieces  in  the  pawnbrokei’s  shop.  But,  among 
very  large  numbers,  especially  among  the  Irish,  the  prevailing  clothing  consists 
of  perfect  rags  often  beyond  all  mending,  or  so  patched  that  the  original  color 
can  no  longer  be  detected.  Yet  the  English  and  Anglo-Irish  go  on  patching, 
and  have  carried  this  art  to  a remarkable  pitch,  putting  wool  or  bagging  on 
fustian,  or  the  reverse — it’s  all  the  same  to  them.  But  the  true,  transplanted 
Irish  hardly  ever  patch  except  in  the  extremest  necessity,  when  the  garment 
would  otherwise  fall  apart.  Ordinarily  the  rags  of  the  shirt  protrude  through 
the  rents  in  the  coat  or  trousers.  They  wear,  as  Thomas  Carlyle  says:  ^ 

“ A suit  of  tatters,  the  gettitig  on  or  off  of  which  is  said  to  be  a difficult  Opera- 
tion, transacted  only  in  festivals  and  the  high  tides  of  the  calendar.” 

The  Irish  have  introduced,  too,  the  custom  previously  unknown  in  England, 
of  going  barefoot.  In  every  manufacturing  town  there  is  now  to  be  seen  a 
multitude  of  people,  especially  women  and  children,  going  about  barefoot,  and 
their  example  is  gradually  being  adopted  by  the  poorer  English. 

As  with  clothing,  so  with  food.  The  workers  get  what  is  too  bad  for  the 
property  holding  dass.  In  the  great  towns  of  England  everything  may  be  had 
of  the  best,  but  it  costs  money;  and  the  workman,  who  must  keep  house  on  a 
couple  of  pence,  cannot  afford  much  expense.  Moreover,  he  usually  receives 
bis  wages  on  Saturday  evening  for,  although  a beginning  has  been  made  in  the 
payment  of  wages  on  Friday,  this  excellent  arrangement  is  by  no  means  uni- 
versal; and  so  he  comes  to  market  at  five  or  even  seven  o’clock,  whence  the  buy- 
ers  of  the  middle  dass  have  had  the  first  choice  during  the  morning  when  the 
market  teems  with  the  best  of  everything.  But,  when  the  workers  reach  it,  the 
best  has  vanished,  and,  if  it  was  still  there,  they  would  probably  not  be  able  to 
buy  it.  The  potatoes  which  the  workers  buy  are  usually  poor,  the  vegetables 

I.  Thomas  Carlyle,  Chartism,  London,  1840,  p.  28. 


47 


wiltcd,  the  cheese  old  and  of  poor  quality,  the  bacon  rancid,  the  meat  lean, 
tough,  taken  from  old,  often  diseased  cattle,  or  such  as  have  died  a natural 
death,  and  not  fresh  even  then,  often  half  decayed.  The  sellers  are  usually 
small  hucksters  who  buy  up  inferior  goods,  and  can  seil  them  cheaply  by  reason 
of  their  badness.  The  poorest  workers  are  forced  to  use  still  another  device  to 
get  together  the  things  they  need  with  their  few  pence,  As  nothing  can  be 
sold  on  Sunday,  and  all  shops  must  be  closed  at  twelve  o’clock  on  Saturday  night, 
such  things  as  would  not  keep  until  Monday  are  sold  at  any  price  between  ten 
o’clock  and  midnight.  But  nine-tenths  of  what  is  sold  at  ten  o’clock  is  past 
using  by  Sunday  morning,  yet  these  are  precisely  the  provisions  which  make  up 
the  Sunday  dinner  of  the  poorest  dass.  The  meat  which  the  workers  buy  is 
very  often  past  using;  but  having  bought  it,  they  must  eat  it.  On  the  6th  of 
January,  1844,  (if  I am  not  greatly  mistaken),  a court  leet  was  held  in  Manches- 
ter, when  eleven  meat-sellers  were  fined  for  having  sold  tainted  meat.  Each  of 
them  had  a whole  ox  or  pig,  or  several  sheep,  or  from  fifty  to  sixty  pounds  of 
meat,  which  w’ere  all  confiscated  in  a tainted  condition.  In  one  case,  sixty-four 
stuffed  Christmas  geese  were  seized  which  had  proved  unsaleable  in  Liverpool, 
and  had  been  forwarded  to  Manchester,  where  they  were  brought  to  market  foul 
and  rotten.  All  the  particulars,  with  names  and  fines,  were  published  at  the  time 
in  the  Manchester  Guardian.  In  the  sixweeks,  from  July  ist  to  August  I4th, 
the  same  sheet  reported  three  similar  cases.  According  to  the  Guardian  for 
August  3d,  a pig,  weighing  200  pounds,  which  had  been  found  dead  and  decayed, 
was  cut  up  and  exposed  for  sale  by  a butcher  at  Heywood,  and  was  then  seized, 
According  to  the  number  for  July  31,  two  butchers  at  Wigan,  of  whom  one  had 
previously  been  convicted  of  the  same  offence,  were  find  £2.  st.  and  £4  st.  re- 
spectively,  for  exposing  tainted  meat  for  sale;  and,  according  to  the  number 
for  August  10,  twenty-six  tainted  hams  seized  at  a dealer’s  in  Bolton,  were 
publicly  burnt,  and  the  dealer  fined  twenty  Shillings.  But  these  are  by  no  means 
all  the  cases;  they  do  not  even  form  a fair  average  for  a period  of  six  weeks, 
according  to  which  to  form  an  average  for  the  year.  There  are  often  seasons 
in  which  every  number  of  the  semi-weekly  Guardian  mentions  a similar  case 
found  in  Manchester  or  its  vicinity.  And  when  one  reflects  upon  the  many 
cases,  which  must  escape  detection  in  the  extensive  markets  that  Stretch  along 
the  front  of  every  main  Street,  under  the  slender  supervision  of  the  market  in- 
spectors — and  how  eise  can  one  explain  the  boldness  with  which  whole  animals 
are  exposed  for  sale  ? — when  one  considers  how  great  the  temptation  must  be, 
in  view  of  the  incomprehensibly  small  fines  mentioned  in  the  foregoing  cases; 
when  one  reflects  what  condition  a piece  of  meat  must  have  reached  to  be  seized 
by  the  inspectors,  it  is  impossible  to  believe  that  the  w^orkers  obtain  good  and 
nourishing  meat  as  a usual  thing.  But  they  are  victimized  in  yet  another  way 
by  the  money-greed  of  the  middle  dass.  Dealers  and  manufacturers  adulterate 
all  kinds  of  provisions  in  an  atrocious  manner,  and  without  the  slightest  regard 
to  the  health  of  the  consumers.  We  have  heard  the  Manchester  Guardian 
upon  this  subject,  let  us  hear  another  organ  of  the  middle  dass — I delight 
in  the  testimony  of  my  opponents — let  us  hear  the  Liverpool  Mercury:  “ Salted 


48 


butter  is  sold  for  fresh,  the  lumps  being  covered  with  a coating  of  fresh 
butter,  or  a pound  of  fresh  being  laid  on  top  to  taste,  while  the  salted  article 
is  sold  after  this  test,  or  the  whole  mass  is  washed  and  then  sold  as  fresh. 
With  sugar,  pounded  rice  and  other  cheap  adulterating  materials  are  mixed,  and 
the  whole  sold  at  full  price.  The  refuse  of  soap-boiling  establishments  also  is 
mixed  with  other  things  and  sold  as  sugar.  Chicory  and  other  cheap  stuff  is 
mixed  with  ground  coffee,  and  artificial  coffee  beans  with  the  unground  article. 
Cocoa  is  often  adulterated  with  fine  brown  earth,  treated  with  fat  to  render  it 
more  easily  mistakable  for  real  cocoa.  Tea  is  mixed  with  the  leaves  of  the  sloe 
and  with  other  refuse,  or  dry  tea-leaves  are  roasted  on  hot  copper  plates,  so  return- 
ing  to  the  proper  color  and  being  sold  as  fresh.  Pepper  is  mixed  with  pounded 
nut-shells;  port  wine  is  manufactured  outright  (out  of  alcohol  dye-stuffs,  etc.), 
while  it  is  notorious  that  more  of  it  is  consumed  in  England  alone  than  is  grown  in 
Portugal;  and  tobacco  is  mixed  with  disgusting  substances  of  all  sorts  and  in  all 
possible  forms  in  which  the  article  is  produced.”  I can  add  that  several  of  the 
most  respected  tobacco  dealers  in  Manchester  announced  publicly,  last  summer, 
that,  by  reason  of  the  universal  adulteration  of  tobacco,  no  firm  could  carry  on 
business  without  adulteration,  and  that  no  cigar  costing  less  than  threepence  is 
made  wholly  from  tobacco.  These  frauds  are  naturally  not  restricted  to  articles 
of  food,  though  I could  mention  a dozen  more,  the  villainy  of  mixing  gypsum 
or  chalk  with  flour  among  them.  Fraud  is  practiced  in  the  sale  of  articles  of 
every  sort;  flannel,  stockings,  etc.,  are  stretched  and  shrink  after  the  first  wash- 
ing;  narrow  cloth  is  sold  as  being  from  one  and  a half  to  three  inches  broader 
than  it  actually  is;  stoneware  is  so  thinly  glazed  that  the  glazing  is  good  for 
nothing  and  cracks  at  once,  and  a hundred  other  rascalities,  tout  conime  chez 
nous.  But  the  lion’s  share  of  the  evil  results  of  these  frauds  falls  to  the  work- 
ers.  The  rieh  are  less  deceived  because  they  can  pay  the  high  prices  of  the 
large  shops  which  have  a reputation  to  lose,  and  would  injure  themselves  more 
than  their  customers  if  they  kept  poor  or  adulterated  wares;  the  rieh  arespoiled, 
too,  by  habitual  good  eäting,  and  detect  adulteration  more  easily  with  their 
sensitive  palates.  But  the  poor,  the  working  people,  to  whom  a couple  of 
farthings  are  important,  who  must  buy  many  things  with  little  money,  who  can- 
not  afford  to  inquire  too  closely  into  the  quality  of  their  purchases,  and  cannot 
do  so  in  any  case  because  they  have  had  no  opportunity  of  cultivating  their 
taste — to  their  share  fall  all  the  adulterated,  poisoned  provisions.  They  must 
deal  with  the  small  retailers,  must  buy  perhaps  on  credit,  and  these  small  retail 
dealers  who  cannot  even  seil  the  same  quality  of  goods  so  cheaply  as  the  largest 
retailers,  because  of  their  small  Capital  and  the  large  proportional  expenses  of 
their  business  must  knowingly  or  unknowingly  buy  adulterated  goods  in  order 
to  seil  at  the  lower  prices  required  and  to  meet  the  competition  of  the  others. 
Further,  a large  retail  dealer  who  has  extensive  Capital  invested  in  his  business 
is  ruined  with  his  ruined  credit  if  detected  in  a fraudulent  practice;  but,  what 
harm  does  it  do  a small  grocer  who  has  customers  in  a single  Street  only,  if 
frauds  are  proved  against  him  ? If  no  one  trusts  him  in  Ancoats,  he  moves  to 
Chorlton  or  Hulme,  where  no  one  knows  him,  and  where  he  continues  to  de- 


49 


fraud  as  before;  while  legal  penalties  attach  to  very  few  adulterations  unless  they 
involve  revenue  frauds.  Not  in  ihe  quality  alone,  but  in  the  qiiantity  of  bis 
goods  as  well,  is  the  English  workingman  defrauded.  The  small  dealers  usually 
have  false  weights  and  measures,  and  an  incredible  number  of  convictions  for 
such  offences  may  be  read  in  the  police  reports.  How  universal  this  form  of 
fraud  is  in  the  manufacturing  districts,  a couple  of  extracts  from  the  Manchester 
Guardian  may  serve  to  show.  They  cover  only  a short  period,  and,  even  here, 
I have  not  all  the  numbers  at  hand: 

Guardian,  June  16,  1844,  Rochdale  Sessions. — Four  dealers  fined  five  to  ten 
Shillings  for  using  light  weights.  Stockport  Sessions. — Two  dealers  fined  one 
Shilling,  one  of  them  having  seven  light  weights  and  a false  scale,  and  both  hav- 
ing  been  warned. 

Guardian,  June  19,  Rochdale  Sessions. — One  dealer  fined  five,  and  two 
farmers  ten  Shillings. 

Guardian,  June  22,  Manchester  Justices  of  the  Peace. — Nineteen  dealers 
fined  two  Shillings  and  sixpence  to  two  pounds. 

Guardian,  June  26,  Ashton  Sessions. — Fourteen  dealers  and  farmers  fined 
two  Shillings  and  sixpence  to  one  pound.  Hyde  Petty  Sessions. — Nine  farmers 
and  dealers  condemned  to  pay  costs  and  five  Shillings  fines. 

Guardian,  July  9,  Manchester. — Sixteen  dealers  condemned  to  pay  costs  and 
fines  not  exceeding  ten  Shillings. 

Guardian,  July  13,  Manchester. — Nine  dealers  fined  from  two  Shillings, 
sixpence,  to  twenty  Shillings. 

Guardian,  July  24,  Rochdale. — Four  dealers  fined  ten  to  twenty  Shillings. 

Guardian,  July  27,  Bolton. — Twelve  dealers  and  innkeepers  condemned  to 
pay  costs. 

Guardian,  August  3,  Bolton. — Three  dealers  fined  two  Shillings  and  sixpence, 
and  five  Shillings. 

Guardian,  August  10,  Bolton. — One  dealer  fined  five  Shillings. 

And  the  same  causes  which  make  the  working  dass  the  chief  sufferer  from 
frauds  in  the  quality  of  goods  make  them  the  usual  victims  of  frauds  in  the  ques- 
tion  of  quantity,  too. 

The  habitual  food  of  the  individual  workingman  naturally  varies  according  to 
his  wages.  The  better  paid  workers,  especially  those  in  whose  families  every 
member  is  able  to  earn  something,  have  good  food  as  long  as  this  state  of  things 
lasts;  meat  daily,  and  bacon  and  cheese  for  supper.  Where  wages  are  less, 
meat  is  used  only  two  or  three  times  a week,  and  the  proportion  of  bread  and 
potatoes  increases;  descending  gradually,  we  find  the  animal  food  reduced  to  a 
small  piece  of  bacon  cut  up  with  the  potatoes,  lower  still,  even  this  disappears, 
and  tliere  remain  only  bread,  cheese,  porridge  and  potatoes,  until  on  the  lowest 
round  of  the  ladder,  among  the  Irish,  potatoes  form  the  sole  food.  As  an  ac- 
companiment,  weak  tea,  with  perhaps  a little  sugar,  milk,  or  spirits,  is  univers- 
ally  drunk.  Tea  is  regarded  in  England,  and  even  in  Ireland,  as  quite  as  indis- 
pensible  as  coffee  in  Germany,  and  where  no  tea  is  used,  the  bitterest  poverty 
reigns.  But  all  this  pre-supposes  that  the  workman  has  work.  When  he  has 


50 


none,  he  is  wholly  at  the  mercy  of  accident,  and  eats  what  is  given  him,  what 
he  can  beg  or  steal.  And,  if  he  gets  nothing,  he  simply  starves,  as  we  have 
seen.  The  quantity  of  food  varies,  of  course,  like  its  quality,  according  to  the 
rate  of  wages,  so  that  among  ill-paid  workers,  even  if  they  have  not  large 
families,  hunger  prevails  in  spite  of  full  and  regulär  work;  and  the  number  of 
the  ill-paid  is  very  large.  Especially  in  London,  where  the  competition  of  the 
workers  rises  with  the  increase  of  population,  is  this  dass  very  numerous,  but  it 
is  to  be  found  in  other  towns  as  well.  In  these  cases  all  sorts  of  devices  are 
used;  potato  parings,  vegetable  refuse  and  rotten  vegetables  are  eaten  for  want 
of  other  food,  and  everything  greedily  gathered  up  wliich  may  possibly  contain 
an  atom  of  nourishment.  And,  if  the  week’s  wages  are  used  up  before  the  end 
of  the  week,  it  often  enough  happens  that  in  the  dosing  days,  the  family  gets 
only  as  much  food,  if  any,  as  is  barely  sufficient  to  keep  off  starvation.  Of  course 
such  a way  of  living  unavoidably  engenders  a multitude  of  diseases,  and  when 
these  appear,  when  the  father  from  whose  work  the  family  is  chiefly  supported, 
whose  physical  exertion  most  demands  nourishment,  and  who  therefore  first 
succumbs — when  the  father  is  utterly  disabled  then  misery  reaches  its  height, 
and  then  the  brutality  with  which  society  abandons  its  members  just  when  their 
need  is  greatest,  comes  out  fully  into  the  light  of  day. 

To  sum  up  briefly  the  facts  thus  far  cited:  The  great  towns  are  chiefly  in- 
habited  by  working  people,  since  in  the  best  case  there  is  one  bourgeois  for 
two  workers,  often  for  three,  here  and  there  for  four;  these  workers  have  no 
property  whatsoever  of  their  own,  and  live  wholly  upon  wages  which  usually  go 
from  hand  to  mouth.  Society,  composed  wholly  of  atoms,  does  not  trouble  itself 
about  them;  leaves  them  to  care  for  themselves  and  their  families,  yet  supplies 
them  no  means  of  doing  this  in  an  efficient  and  permanent  manner.  Every 
workingman,  even  the  best,  is  therefore  constantly  exposed  to  loss  of  work  and 
food,  that  is  to  death  by  starvation,  and  many  perish  in  this  way.  The  dwell- 
ings  of  the  workers  are  everywhere  badly  planned,  badly  built,  and  kept  in  the 
worst  condition,  badly  ventilated,  damp  and  unwholesome.  The  inhabitants 
are  confined  to  the  smallest  possible  space,  and  at  least  one  family  usually  sleeps 
in  each  room.  The  interior  arrangement  of  the  dwellings  is  poverty-stricken  in 
various  degrees,  down  to  the  utter  absence  of  even  the  most  necessary  furniture. 
The  clothing  of  the  workers,  too,  is  generally  scanty,  and  that  of  great  multi- 
tudes  is  in  rags.  The  food  is,  in  general,  bad;  often  almost  wholly  unfit  for 
use,  and  in  many  cases,  at  least  at  times,  insufficient  in  quantity,  so  that,  in  ex- 
treme cases,  death  by  starvation  results.  Thus  the  working  dass  of  the  great 
cities  offers  a graduated  scale  of  conditions  in  life,  in  the  best  cases  a temporarily 
endurable  existence  for  hard  work  and  good  wages,  good  and  endurable,  that  is 
from  the  worker’s  standpoint;  in  the  worst  case  bitter  want,  reaching  even  home- 
lessness  and  death  by  starvation.  The  average  is  much  nearer  the  worst  case  than 
the  best.  And  this  series  does  not  fall  into  fixed  classes,  so  that  one  can  say, 
this  fraction  of  the  working  dass  is  well  off,  has  always  been  so,  and  remains 
so.  If  that  is  the  case  here  and  there,  if  single  branches  of  work  have  in  gen- 
eral an  advantage  over  others,  yet  the  condition  of  the  workers  in  each  brauch 


is  subject  to  such  great  fluctuations  that  a single  workingman  may  be  so  placed 
as  to  pass  through  the  whole  ränge  from  comparative  comfort  to  the  extremes t 
need,  even  to  death  by  starvation,  while  almost  every  English  workingman 
can  teil  a tale  of  marked  changes  of  fortune.  Let  us  examine  the  causes  of  this 
somewhat  more  closely. 


COMPETITION. 

We  have  seen  in  the  introduction  how  competition  created  the  Proletariat  at 
the  very  beginning  of  the  industrial  movement,  by  increasing  the  v^ages  of 
weavers  in  consequence  of  the  increased  demand  for  woven  goods,  so  inducing 
the  weaving  peasants  to  abandon  their  farms  and  earn  more  money  by  devot- 
ing  themselves  to  their  looms.  We  have  seen  how  it  crowded  out  the 
small  farmers  by  means  of  the  large  farm  System,  reduced  them  to  the  rank  of 
proletarians  and  attracted  them  in  part  into  the  towns;  how  it  further  ruined  the 
small  bourgeoisie  in  great  measure  and  reduced  its  members  also  to  the  ranks  of 
the  Proletariat;  how  it  centralized  Capital  in  the  hands  of  the  few  and  population 
in  the  great  towns.  Such  are  the  various  ways  and  means  by  which  competition, 
as  it  reached  its  full  manifestation  and  free  development  in  modern  industry, 
created  and  extended  the  Proletariat.  / We  shall  now  have  to  observe  its  influ- 
ence  on  the  working  dass  already  created.  And  here  we  must  begin  by  tracing 
the  results  of  competition  of  single  workers  with  one  another. 

Competition  is  the  completest  expression  of  the  battle  of  all  against  all  which 
rules  in  modern  civil  Society.  This  battle,  a battle  for  life,  for  existence,  for 
everything,  in  case  of  need  a battle  of  life  and  death,  is  fought  not  between  the 
different  classes  of  society  only,  but  also  between  the  individual  members  of 
these  classes.  Each  is  in  the  way  of  the  other,  and  each  seeks  to  crowd  out  all 
who  are  in  his  way,  and  to  put  himself  in  their  place.  The  workers  are  in  con- 
stant  competition  among  themselves  as  the  members  of  the  bourgeoisie  among 
themselves.  The  power  loom  weaver  is  in  competition  with  the  hand-loom 
weaver,  the  unemployed  or  ill-paid  hand-loom  weaver  with  him  who  has  work 
or  is  better  paid,  each  trying  to  supplant  the  other.  But  this  competition  of  the 
workers  among  themselves  is  the  worst  side  of  the  present  state  of  things  in  its 
effect  upon  the  worker,  the  sharpest  weapon  against  the  Proletariat  in  the  hands 
of  the  bourgeoisie.  Hence  the  effort  of  the  workers  to  nullify  this  competition 
by  associations,  hence  the  hatred  of  the  bourgeoisie  towards  these  associations, 
and  its  triumph  in  every  defeat  which  befalls  them. 

The  proletarian  is  helpless;  left  to  himself,  he  cannot  live  a single  day.  The 
bourgeoisie  has  gained  a monopoly  of  all  means  of  existence  in  the  broadest 
sense  of  the  word.  What  the  proletarian  needs,  he  can  obtain  only  from  this 
bourgeoisie,  which  is  protected  in  its  monopoly  by  the  power  of  the  State.  The 
proletarian  is  therefore  in  law  and  in  fact  the  slave  of  the  bourgeoisie,  which 
can  decree  his  life  or  death.  It  offers  him  the  means  of  living,  but  only  for  an 
“ equivalent,”  for  his  work.  It  even  lets  him  have  the  appearance  of  acting 

u.  ÜF  lU-  lib. 


52 


from  a free  choice,  of  making  a c<^ntract  with  free,  unconstrained  consent,  as  a 
responsible  agent,  who  has  altained  bis  majority. 

Fine  free-dom,  where  ihe  proletarian  has  no  other  choice  ihan  that  of  either 
accepting  the  conditions  which  the  bourgeoisie  offers  him,  or  of  starving,  of 
freezing  to  death,  of  sleeping  naked  among  the  beasts  of  the  forests!  A fine 
“equivalent”  valued  at  pleasure  by  the  bourgeoisie!  And  if  one  proletarian  is 
such  a fool  as  to  starve  rather  than  agree  to  the  equitable  propositions  of  the 
bourgeois,  his  “ natural  superiors,'*  another  is  easily  found  in  his  place;  there 
are  proletarians  enough  in  the  world,  and  not  all  so  insane  as  to  prefer  dying  to 
living. 

Here  we  have  the  competition  of  the  workers  among  themselves.  If  all  the 
proletarians  announced  their  determination  to  starve  rather  than  work  for  the 
bourgeoisie,  the  latter  would  have  to  surrender  its  monopoly.  But  this  is  not 
the  case — is,  indeed,  a rather  impossible  case — so  that  the  bourgeoisie  still 
thrives.  To  this  competition  of  the  worker  there  is  but  one  limit;  no  worker 
will  work  for  less  than  he  needs  to  subsist.  If  he  must  starve,  he  will  prefer  to 
starve  In  idlenessTäther  tharr  in  ~törh  True,  this  limit  is  relative;  one  needs 
more  than  another,  one  is  accustomed  to  more  comfort  than  another;  the 
Englishman  who  is  still  somewhat  civilized,  needs  more  than  the  Irishman  who 
goes  in  rags,  eats  potatoes,  and  sleeps  in  a pig  sty.  But  that  does  hot  hinder 
the  Irishman’s  competing  with  the  Englishman,  and  gradually  forcing  the  rate 
of  wages,  and  with  it  the  Englishman’s  level  of  civilization  down  to  the  Irish- 
man’s level.  Certain  kinds  of  work  require  a certain  grade  of  civilization,  and 
to  these  belong  almost  all  forms  of  industrial  occupation;  hence  the  interest  of 
the  bourgeoisie  requires  in  this  case  that  wages  should  be  high  enough  to  enable 
the  workman  to  keep  himself  upon  the  required  plane. 

The  newly  immigrated  Irishman  encamped  in  the  first  stable  that  offers  or 
turned  out  in  the  Street  after  a week  because  he  spends  everything  upon  drink 
and  cannot  pay  rent,  would  be  a poor  mill-hand.  The  mill-hand  must  therefore 
have  wages  enough  to  enable  him  to  bring  up  his  children  to  regulär  work;  but 
no  more  lest  he  should  be  able  to  get  on  without  the  wages  of  his  children,  and 
so  make  something  eise  of  them  than  mere  workingmen.  Here,  too,  the  limit,  the 
minimum  wage,  is  relative.  When  every  member  of  the  family  works,  the  in- 
dividual worker  can  get  on  with  proportionately  less,  and  the  bourgeoisie  has 
made  the  most  of  the  opportunity  of  employing  and  making  profitable  the  labor 
of  women  and  children  afforded  by  machine-work.  Of  course,  it  is  not  in  every 
family  that  every  member  can  be  set  at  work,  and  those  in  which  the  case  is 
otherwise  would  be  in  a bad  way  if  obliged  to  exist  upon  the  minimum  wage 
possible  to  a wholly  employed  family.  Hence  the  usual  wages  form  an  average 
according  to  which  a fully  employed  family  gets  on  pretty  well,  and  one  which 
embraces  few  members  able  to  work,  pretty  badly.  But  in  the  worst  case,  every 
workingman  prefers  surrendering  the  trifling  luxury  to  which  he  was  accustomed 
to  not  living  at  all;  prefers  a pig-pen  to  no  roof,  wears  rags  in  preference  to 
going  naked,  confines  himself  to  a potato  diet  in  preference  to  starvation.  He 
Contents  himself  with  half  pay  and  the  hope  of  better  times  rather  than  be 


53 


driven  into  the  Street  to  perish  before  the  eyes  of  the  world,  as  so  many  have 
done  who  had  no  work  whatever.  This  trifle  therefore,  this  something  more 
thaii  nothing,  is  the  minimum  of  wages.  And  if  there  are  more  workers  at 
hand  than  the  bourgeoisie  thinks  well  to  employ — if  at  the  end  of  the  battle  of 
competition,  there  yet  remain  workers  who  find  nothing  to  do,  they  must 
simply  starve;  for  the  bourgeois  will  hardly  give  them  work  if  he  cannot  seil  the 
produce  of  their  labor  at  a profit. 

From  this  it  is  evident  what  the  minimum  of  wages  is.  The  maximum  is  de- 
termined  by  the  competition  of  the  bourgeois  among  themselves;  for  we  have 
seen  how  they,  too,  must  compete  with  each  other.  The  bourgeois  can  increase 
bis  Capital  only  in  commerce  or  manufacture,  and  in  both  cases  he  needs  work- 
ers. Even  if  he  invests  his  Capital  at  interest,  he  needs  them  indirectly;  for 
without  commerce  and  manufacture,  no  one  would  pay  him  interest  upon  his 
Capital,  no  one  could  use  it.  So  the  bourgeois  certainly  needs  workers,  not  in- 
deed  for  his  immediate  living,  for  at  need  he  could  consume  his  Capital,  but  as 
we  need  an  article  of  trade  or  a beast  of  bürden  as  a means  of  profit.  The 
proletarian  produces  the  goods  which  the  bourgeois  sells  with  advantage. 
When,  therefore,  the  demand  for  these  goods  increases  so  that  all  the  competing 
workingmen  are  employed,  and  a few  more  might  perhaps  be  useful,  the  com- 
petition among  the  workers  falls  away,  and  the  bourgeois  begin  to  compete 
among  themselves.  The  capitalist  in  search  of  workmen  knows  very  well  that 
his  Profits  increase  as  prices  rise  in  consequence  of  the  increased  demand  for  his 
goods,  and  pays  a trifle  higher  wages  rather  than  let  the  whole  profit  escape  him. 
He  sends  the  butter  to  fetch  the  cheese,  and  getting  the  latter,  leaves  the  butter 
ungrudgingly  to  the  workers.  So  one  capitalist  after  another  goes  in  chase  of 
workers  and  wages  rise;  but  only  as  high  as  the  increasing  demand  permits 
If  the  capitalist,  who  willingly  sacrificed  a part  of  his  extraordinary  profit,  runs 
into  danger  of  sacrificing  any  part  of  his  ordinary  average  profit,  he  takes  very 
good  care  not  to  pay  more  than  average  wages. 

From  this  we  can  determine  the  average  rate  of  wages.  Under  average  cir- 
cumstances,  when  neither  workers  nor  capitalists  have  reason  to  compete  especial- 
ly  among  themselves,  when  there  are  just  as  many  workers  at  hand  as  can  be 
employed  in  producing  precisely  the  goods  that  are  demanded,  wages  stand  a 
little  above  the  minimum.  How  far  they  rise  above  the  minimum  will  depend 
upon  the  average  needs  and  the  grade  of  civilization  of  the  workers.  If  the 
woj  kers  are  accustomed  to  eat  meat  several  times  in  the  week,  the  capitalists 
must  reconcile  themselves  to  paying  wages  enough  to  make  this  food  attainable, 
not  less,  because  the  workers  are  not  competing  among  themselves  and  have  no 
occasion  to  content  themselves  with  less;  not  more,  because  the  capitalists  in 
the  absence  of  competition  among  themselves,  have  no  occasion  to  attract  work- 
ingmen by  extraoidinary  favors. 

This  Standard  of  the  average  needs  and  the  average  civilization  of  the  workers 
has  become  very  complicnted  by  reason  of  the  complications  of  English  indus- 
try,  and  is  different  for  different  sorts  of  workers  as  has  been  pointed  out. 
Most  industrial  occupations  demand  a certain  skill  and  regularity,  and  for  these 


54 


qualities  which  involve  a certain  grade  of  civilization,  the  rate  of  wages  must  be 
such  as  to  induce  the  worker  to  acquire  such  skill  arA  subject  himself  to  such 
regularity.  Hence  it  is  that  the  average  wages  of  industrial  workers  are  higher 
than  ihose  of  mere  porters,  day  laborers,  etc.,  higher  especially  than  those  of 
agricultural  laborers,  a fact  to  which  the  additional  cost  of  the  necessities  of 
life  in  cities  contributes  somewhat.  In  other  words,  the  worker  is,  in  law  and 
in  fact,  the  slave  of  the  property-holding  dass,  so  effectually  a slave  that  he  is 
sold  like  a piece  of  goods,  rises  and  falls  in  value  like  a commodity.  If  the  de- 
mand  for  workers  increases,  the  price  of  workers  rises;  if  it  falls,  their  price 
falls.  If  it  falls  so  greatly  that  a number  of  them  become  unsaleable,  if  they 
are  left  in  stock,  they  are  simply  left  lying;  and  as  they  cannot  live  upon  that, 
they  die  of  slarvation.  For,  to  speak  in  the  words  of  the  economists,  the  ex- 
pense  incurred  in  maintaining  them  would  not  be  reproduced,  would  be  money 
[thrown  away,  and  to  this  end  no  man  advances  Capital;  and,  so  far,  Malthus 
j was  perfectly  right  in  his  theory  of  population.  The  only  difference  as  com- 
1 pared  with  the  old,  outspoken  slavery  is  this,  that  the  worker  of  to-day  seems 
to  be  free  because  he  is  not  sold  once  for  all,  but  piecemeal  by  the  day,  the 
week,  the  year,  and  because  no  one  owner  sells  him  to  another,  but  he  is  forced 
to  seil  himself  in  this  way  instead,  being  the  slave  of  no  particular  person,  but 
of  the  whole  property-holding  dass.  For  him  the  matter  is  unchanged  at  bot- 
tom,  and  if  this  semblance  of  liberty  necessarily  gives  him  some  real  freedom 
on  the  one  hand,  it  eniails  on  the  other  the  disadvantage  thatno  one  guarantees 
him  a subsistence,  he  is  in  danger  of  being  repudiated  at  any  moment  by  his 
master,  the  bourgeoisie,  and  left  to  die  of  starvation,  if  the  bourgeoisie  ceases 
to  have  an  interest  in  his  employment,  his  existence.  The  bourgeoisie,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  far  better  off  under  the  present  arrangement  than  under  the  old 
slave  System;  it  can  dismiss  its  employees  at  discretion  without  sacrificing  in- 
vested  Capital,  and  gets  its  work  done  much  more  cheaply  than  is  possible  with 
slave  labor,  as  Adam  Smith  comfortingly  pointed  out.* 

i Hence  it  follows,  too,  that  Adam  Smith  was  perfectly  right  in  making  the 
I assertion:  “That  the  demand  for  men,  like  that  for  any  other  commodity, 
necessarily  regulates  the  production  of  men,  quickens  it  when  it  goes  on  too 
slowly,  and  stops  it  when  it  advances  too  fast.”  Just  as  in  the  case  of  any  other 
com77iodityl  If  there  are  too  few  laborers  at  hand,  prices  i.  e.  wages,  rise,  the 
workers  are  more  prosperous,  marriages  multiply,  more  children  are  born  and 
more  live  to  grow  up,  until  a sufficient  number  of  laborers  has  been  secured.  If 
there  are  too  many  on  hand,  prices  fall,  want  of  work,  poverty  and  starvation 

♦ Adam  Smith,  Wealth  of  Nations  I.,  Mc  Culloch’s  edition  in  one  volume,  § 8,  p.  36  : 
“ The  wear  and  tear  of  a slave,  it  has  been  said,  is  at  the  expense  of  his  master,  but  that  ot  a free 
servant  is  at  his  own  expense.  The  wear  and  tear  of  the  latter,  however,  is,  in  reality,  as  much 
at  the  expense  of  his  master  as  that  of  the  former.  The  wages  paid  to  journeymen  and  servants 
of  every  kind,  must  be  such  as  may  enable  them,  one  with  another,  to  continue  the  race  of  jour- 
neymen and  servants,  according  as  the  increasing,  diminishing  or  stationary  demand  of  the 
society  may  happen  to  require.  ßut  though  the  wear  and  tear  of  a free  servant  be  equally  at 
the  expense  of  his  master,  it  generally  costs  him  much  less  than  that  of  a slave.  The  fund  fo-r 
replacing  or  repairing,  if  I may  say  so,  the  wear  and  tear  of  the  slave,  is  commonly  managed  by 
anegligent  master  or  careless  overseer.” 


55 


and  consequent  diseases  arise,  and  the  “ surplus  population  ” is  put  out  of  the 
way.  And  Malthus,  who  carried  the  foregoing  proposition  of  Smith  farther, 
was  also  right,  in  his  way,  in  asserting  that  there  are  always  more  people  on 
hand  than  can  be  maintained  from  the  available  means  of  subsistence.  Surplus 
population  is  engeiidered  rather  by  the  competition  of  the  workers  among  them- 
selves,  which  forces  each  separate  worker  to  labor  as  much  each  day  as  his 
strength  can  possibly  admit.  If  a manufacturer  can  employ  ten  hands  nine 
hours  daily,  he  can  employ  nine  if  each  works  ten  hours,  and  the  tenth 
goes  hungry.  And  if  a manufacturer  can  force  the  nine  hands  to  work  an  extra 
hour  daily  for  the  same  wages  by  threatening  to  discharge  them  at  a time  when 
the  demand  for  hands  is  not  very  great,  he  discharges  the  tenth  and  saves  so 
much  wages.  This  is  the  process  on  a small  scale,  which  goes  on  in  the  nations 
on  a large- one.  The  productiveness  of  each  hand  raised  to  the  highest  pitch 
by  the  competition  of  the  workers  among  themselves,  the  division  of  labor,  the 
introduction  of  machinery,  the  subjugalion  of  the  forces  of  nature  deprive  a 
multitude  of  workers  of  bread.  These  starving  workers  are  then  removed 
from  the  market,  Ihey  can  buy  nothing,  and  the  quantity  of  articles  of  consump- 
tion  previously  required  by  them  is  no  longer  in  demand,  need  no  longer  be 
produced,  the  workers  previously  employed  in  producing  them  are  therefore 
driven  out  of  work,  and  are  also  removed  from  the  market,  and  so  it  goes 
on,  always  the  same  old  round;  or  rather,  so  it  would  go  if  other  circumstances 
did  not  intervene.  The  introduction  of  the  industrial  forces  already  referred 
to  for  increasing  production,  leads  in  the  course  of  time,  to  a reduction  of  prices 
of  the  articles  produced  and  to  consequent  increased  consumption,  so  that  a 
large  part  of  the  displaced  workers  finally,  after  long  suffering,  find  work  again. 
If,  in  addition  to  this,  the  conquest  of  foreign  markets  constantly  and  rapidly 
increases  the  demand  for  manufactured  goods,  as  has  been  the  case  in  England 
during  the  past  sixty  years,  the  demand  for  hands  increases  and,  in  proportion 
to  it,  the  population.  Thus,  instead  of  diminishing,  the  population  of  the 
British  Empire  has  increased  with  extraordinary  rapidity,  and  is  still  increasing. 
Yet,  in  spite  of  the  extension  of  industiy,  in  spite  of  the  demand  for  working- 
men  which,  in  general,  has  increased,  there  is,  according  to  the  confession  of  all 
the  official  political  parties,  (Tory,  Whig  and  Radical),  permanent  surplus, 
superfluous  population ; the  competition  among  the  workers  is  constantly  greater 
than  the  competition  to  secure  workers. 

Whence  comes  this  incongruity  ? It  lies  in  the  nature  of  industrial  competi- 
tion and  the  commercial  crises  which  arise  from  them.  In  the  present  unregu- 
lated  production  and  distribution  of  the  means  of  subsistence,  which  is  carried 
on  not  directly  for  the  sake  of  supplying  needs  but  for  profit,  in  the  System 
under  which  everyone  works  for  himself,  to  enrich  himself,  disturbances  inevit- 
ably  arise  at  every  moment. ' For  example,  England  supplies  a number  of 
countries  with  most  diverse  goods.  Now  although  the  manufacturer  may  know 
how  much  of  each  article  is  consumed  in  each  country  annually,  he  cannot  know 


56 


how  much  is  on  hand  at  every  given  moment,  much  less  can  he  know  how  much 
]iis  competitors  export  thither.  He  can  only  draw  most  uncertain  inferences 
from  the  perpetual  fluctuations  in  prices,  as  to  the  quantities  on  hand  and  the 
needs  of  the  moment.  He  must  trust  to  luck  in  exporting  his  goods.  Every- 
thing  is  done  blindly,  as  guess-work,  more  or  less  at  the  mercy  of  accident. 
Upon  the  slightest  favorable  report,  each  one  exports  what  he  can,  and  before 
long  such  a market  is  glutted,  sales  stop,  Capital  remains  inactive,  prices  fall, 
and  English  manufacture  has  no  further  employment  for  its  hands.  In  the 
beginning  of  the  development  of  manufacture,  these  checks  were  limited  to 
single  branches  and  single  markets;  but  the  centralizing  tendency  of  competition 
which  drives  the  hands  thrown  out  of  one  branch  into  such  other  branches  as 
are  most  easily  accessible,  and  transfers  the  goods  which  cannot  be  disposed  of 
in  one  market  to  other  markets,  has  gradually  brought  the  single  minor  crises 
nearer  together  and  United  them  into  one  periodically  recurring  crisis.  Such  a 
crisis  usually  recurs  once  in  five  years  after  a brief  period  of  activity  and  general 
prosperity;  the  home  market,  like  all  foreign  ones,  is  glutted  with  English  goods, 
which  it  can  only  slowly  absorb,  the  industrial  movement  comes  to  a standstill 
in  almost  every  branch,  the  small  manufacturers  and  merchants  who  cannot  sur- 
vive  a prolonged  inactivity  of  their  invested  Capital  fail,  the  larger  ones  suspend 
business  during  the  worst  season,  dose  their  mills  or  work  short  time,  perhaps 
half  the  day;  wages  fall  by  reason  of  the  competition  of  the  unemployed,  the 
diminution  of  working  time  and  the  lack  of  profitable  sales;  want  becomes 
universal  among  the  workers,  the  small  savings,  which  individuals  may  have 
made,  are  rapidly  consumed,  the  philanthropic  institutions  are  overburdened, 
the  poor  rates  are  doubled,  trebled,  and  still  insufficient,  the  number  of  the  starv- 
ing  increases,  and  the  whole  multitude  of  “ surplus  ” population  presses  in  terrific 
numbers  into  the  foreground.  This  continues  for  a time;  ihe  “surplus”  exist 
as  best  they  may.  or  perish ; philanthropy  and  the  Poor  I.aw  help  many  of  them 
to  a painful  Prolongation  of  their  existence,  Others  find  scant  means  of  sub- 
sistence  here  and  there  in  such  kinds  of  work  as  have  been  least  open  to  com- 
petition, are  most  remote  from  manufacture.  And  with  how  little  can  a human 
being  keep  body  and  soul  together  for  a time!  Gradually  the  state  of  things 
improves;  the  accumulations  of  goods  are  consumed,  the  general  depression 
among  the  men  of  commerce  and  manufacture  prevents  a too  hasty  replenishing 
of  the  markets,  and  at  last  rising  prices  and  favorable  reports  from  all  directions 
restore  activity.  Most  of  the  markets  are  distant  ones;  demand  increases  and 
prices  rise  constantly  while  the  first  exports  are  arriving;  people  struggle  for  the 
first  goods,  the  first  sales  enliven  trade  still  more,  the  prospective  ones  promise 
still  higher  prices;  expecting  a further  rise,  merchants  begin  to  buy  upon  specula- 
tion,  and  so  to  withdraw  from  consumption  the  articles  intended  for  it,  just 
when  they  are  most  needed.  Speculation  forces  prices  still  higher,  by  inspiring 
others  to  purchase,  and  appropriating  new  importations  at  once.  All  this  is 
reported  to  England,  manufacturers  begin  to  produce  with  a will,  new  mills  are 
built,  every  means  is  employed  to  make  the  most  of  the  favorable  moment. 


Speculation  arises  here,  too,  exerting  the  same  influence  as  upon  foreign 
markets,  raising  prices,  withdrawing  goods  from  consumption,  spurring  manu- 
facture  in  both  ways  to  the  highest  pitch  oi  effort.  Then  come  the  daring 
speculators  working  with  fictitious  Capital,  living  upon  credit,  ruined  if  they 
cannot  speedily  seil;  they  hurl  themselves  into  this  universal,  disorderly  race  for 
profits,  multiply  the  disorder  and  haste  by  their  unbridled  passion,  which  drives 
prices  and  production  to  madness.  It  is  a frantic  struggle,  which  carries  away 
even  the  most  experienced  and  phlegmatic;  goods  are  spun,  woven,  hammered, 
as  if  all  mankind  were  to  be  newly  equipped,  as  though  two  thousand  million 
new  Consumers  had  been  discovered  in  the  moon.  All  at  once  the  shaky  specu- 
lators abroad  who  must  have  money  begin  to  seil,  below  market  price,  of  course, 
for  their  need  is  urgent;  one  sale  is  followed  by  others,  prices  fluctuate,  specu- 
lators throw  their  goods  upon  the  market  in  terror,  the  market  is  disordered, 
credit  shaken,  one  house  after  another  stops  payments,  bankruptcy  follows 
bankruptcy,  and  the  discovery  is  made  that  three  times  more  goods  are  on  hand 
or  under  way  than  can  be  consumed.  The  news  reaches  England  where  pro- 
duction has  been  going  on  at  full  speed  meanwhile,  panic  seizes  all  hands, 
failures  abroad  cause  others  in  England,  the  panic  crushes  a number  of  firms, 
all  reserves  are  thrown  upon  the  market  here,  too,  in  the  moment  of  anxiety,  and 
the  alarm  is  still  further  exaggerated.  This  is  the  beginning  of  the  crisis  which 
then  takes  precisely  the  same  course  as  its  predecessor,  and  gives  place  in  turn 
to  a season  of  prosperity.  So  it  goes  on  perpetually,  prosperity,  crisis,  pros- 
perity,  crisis,  and  this  perennial  round  in  which  English  industry  moves  is,  as 
has  been  before  observed,  usually  completed  once  in  five  or  six  years. 

From  this  it  is  clear  that  English  manufacture  must  have,  at  all  times  5 ave 
the  brief  periods  of  highest  prosperity,  an  unemployed  reserve  army  of  workers, 
in  Order  to  be  able  to  produce  the  masses  of  goods  required  by  the  market  in 
the  liveliest  months.  This  reserve  army  is  larger  or  smaller,  according  as  the 
state  of  the  market  occasions  the  employment  of  a larger  or  smaller  proportion 
of  its  members.  And  if  at  the  moment  of  highest  activity  of  the  market,  the 
agricultural  districts  and  the  branches  least  affected  by  the  general  prosperity 
temporarily  supply  to  manufacture  a number  of  workers,  these  are  a mere 
minority,  and  these  too  belong  to  the  reserve  army,  with  the  single  dif- 
ference  that  the  prosperity  of  the  moment  was  required  to  reveal  their  con" 
nection  with  it.  When  they  enter  upon  the  more  active  branches  of  work,  their 
former  employers  draw  in  somewhat,  in  order  to  feel  the  loss  less,  work  longer 
hours,  employ  women  and  younger  workers,  and  when  the  Wanderers  return 
discharged  at  the  beginning  of  the  crisis,  they  find  their  places  filled  and  them- 
selves superfluous — at  least  in  the  majority  of  cases.  This  reserve  army,  which 
embraces  an  immense  multitude  during  the  crisis  and  a large  number  during  the 
period  which  may  be  regarded  as  the  average  between  the  highest  prosperity  and 
the  crisis,  is  the  “ surplus  population  " of  England,  which  keeps  body  and  soul 
together  by  begging,  stealing,  Street  sweeping,  collecting  manure,  pushing 
handcarts,  driving  donkeys,  peddling,  or  performing  occasional  small  Jobs. 


58 


Tn  every  great  town  a multitude  of  such  people  may  be  found.  It  is  astomsh- 
ing  in  vvhat  devices  this  “ surplus  ” population  takes  refuge.  The  London 
Crossing  sweepers  are  known  all  over  the  world;  but  hitherto  the  principal 
Streets  in  all  the  great  eitles,  as  well  as  the  crossings,  have  been  swepL  by  people^ 
out  of  other  work,  and  employed  by  the  Poor  Law  guardians  or  the  municipal 
authorities  for  the  purpose.  Now,  however,  a machine  has  been  invented 
which  rattles  through  the  streets  daily,  and  has  spoiled  this  source  of  income 
for  the  unemployed.  Along  the  great  highways  leading  into  the  eitles,  on 
which  there  is  a great  deal  of  wagon  traffic,  a large  number  of  people  may  be 
seeh  with  small  carts,  gathering  fresh  horse-dung  at  the  risk  of  their  lives 
among  the  passing  coaches  and  omnibuses,  often  paying  a couple  of  Shillings  a 
week  to  the  authorities  for  the  privilege.  But  this  occupation  is  forbidden  in 
many  places,  because  the  ordinary  Street  sweepings  thus  impoverished  cannot 
be  sold  as  manure.  Happy  are  such  of  the  “surplus”  as  can  obtain  a push- 
cart  and  go  about  with  it.  Happier  still  those  to  whom  it  is  vouchsafed  to 
possess  an  ass  in  addition  to  the  cart.  The  ass  must  get  his  own  food  or  is. 
given  a little  gathered  refuse,  and  can  yet  bring  in  a trifle  of  money.  Most  of 
the  “surplus”  betake  themselves  to  huckstering.  On  Saturday  afternoons, 
especially,  when  the  whole  working  population  is  on  the  streets,  the  crowd  who 
live  from  huckstering  and  peddling  may  be  seen.  Shoe  and  corset  laces,  braces, 
twine,  cakes,  oranges,  every  kind  of  small  article  are  offered  by  men,  women  and 
children;  and  at  other  times  also,  such  peddlers  are  always  to  be  seen  Standing 
at  the  Street  corners,  or  going  about  with  cakes  and  ginger  beer  or  nettle  beer. 
Matches  and  such  things,  sealing-wax,  and  patent  mixtures  for  lighting  fires 
are  further  resources  of  such  venders.  Others,  so-called  Jobbers,  go  about 
the  streets  seeking  small  Jobs.  Many  of  these  succeed  in  getting  a day’s  work, 
many  are  not  so  fortunate. 

“ At  the  gates  of  all  the  London  docks,”  says  the  Rev.  W.  Champney, 
preacher  of  the  East  End,  “hundreds  of  the  poor  appear  every  morning  in 
winter  before  daybreak,  in  the  hope  of  getting  a day’s  work.  They  await  the 
opening  of  the  gates;  and,  when  the  youngest  and  strongest  and  best  known 
have  been  engaged,  hundreds  cast  down  by  disappointed  hope,  go  back  to  their 
wretched  homes.” 

When  these  people  find  no  work  and  will  not  rebel  against  society,  what 
remains  for  them  but  to  beg  ? And  surely  no  one  can  wonder  at  the  great  army 
of  beggars,  most  of  them  able-bodied  men,  with  whom  the  police  carries  on 
perpetual  war.  But  the  beggary  of  these  men  has  a peculiar  character.  Such 
a man  usually  goes  about  with  his  family  singing  a pleading  song  in  the  streets 
or  appealing,  in  a Speech,  to  the  benevolence  of  the  passers-by.  And  it  is  a 
striking  fact  that  these  beggars  are  seen  almost  excluiively  in  the  working 
people’s  districts;  that  it  is  almost  exclusively  the  gifts  of  the  poor  from  which 
they  live.  Or  the  family  takes  up  its  position  in  a busy  Street,  and  without  utter- 
ing  a Word,  lets  the  mere  sight  of  its  helplessness  plead  for  it.  In  this  case,  too, 
they  reckon  upon  the  sympathy  of  the  workers  alone,  who  know  from  experience 
how  it  feels  to  be  hungry,  and  are  liable  to  find  themselves  in  the  same  Situation 


59 


at  any  moment;  for  this  dumb,  yet  most  moving  appeal,  is  met  with  almost 
solely  in  such  streets  as  are  frequented  by  workingmen,  and  at  such  hours  as 
workingmen  pass  by;  but  especially  on  summer  evenings  when  the  “secrets’ 
of  the  working  people’s  quarters  are  generally  revealed,  and  the  middle  dass 
withdraws  as  far  as  possible  from  the  district  thus  polluted.  And  he  among 
the  “surplus,”  who  has  courage  and  passion  enough  openly  to  resist  society, 
to  reply  with  declared  war  upon  the  bourgeoisie  to  the  disguised  war  which 
the  bourgeoisie  wages  upon  him,  goes  forth  to  rob,  plunder,  murder,  and 
burn! 

Of  this  surplus  population,  there  are,  according  to  the  reports  of  the  Poor 
Law  commissioners,  on  an  average,  a million  and  a half  in  England  and  Wales; 
in  Scotland  the  number  cannot  be  ascertained  for  want  of  Poor  Law  regulations, 
and  with  Ireland  we  shall  deal  separately.  Moreover,  this  million-  and  a half 
includes  only  those  who  actually  apply  to  the  parish  for  relief ; the  great  multi- 
tude  who  struggle  on  without  recourse  to  this  most  hated  expedient,  it  does  not 
embrace.  On  the  other  hand,  a good  part  of  the  number  belongs  to  the  agri- 
cultural districts,  and  does  not  enter  into  the  present  discussion.  Düring  a 
crisis  this  number  naturally  increases  markedly,  and  want  reaches  its  highest 
pitch.  Take,  for  instance,  the  crisis  of  1842,  which,  being  the  lalest,  was  the 
most  violent;  for  the  intensity  of  the  crisis  increases  with  each  repetition,  and 
the  next  which  may  be  expected  not  later  than  1847*  will  probably  be  still  more 
violent  and  lasting.  Düring  this  crisis  the  poor  rates  rose  in  every  town  to  a 
hitherto  unknown  height.  In  Stockport,  among  other  towns,  for  every  pound 
paid  in  house  rent,  eight  Shillings  of  poor  rate  had  to  be  paid,  so  that  the  rate 
alone  formed  forty  per  cent.  of  the  house  rent.  Moreover,  whole  streets  stood 
vacant,  so  that  there  were  at  least  twenty  thousand  fewer  inhabitants  than  usual, 
and  on  the  doors  of  the  empty  houses  might  be  read:  “ Stockport  to  let.^'  In 
Bolton  where,  in  ordinary  years,  the  rents  from  which  rates  are  paid,  average 
£S6,ooo,  they  sank  to  £36,000,  The  number  of  the  poor  to  be  supported  rose, 
on  the  other  hand,  to  14,000,  or  more  than  twenty  per  cent.  of  the  whole  num- 
ber of  inhabitants.  In  Leeds,  the  Poor  Law  guardians  had  a reserve  fund  of 
;^io,ooo.  This,  with  a contribution  of  ;^7000,  was  wholly  exhausted  before  the 
crisis  reached  its  height.  So  it  was  every  where.  A report  drawn  up  in  January, 
7843,  by  a Committee  of  the  Anti-Corn  Law  League,  on  the  condition  of  the 
industrial  districts  in  1842,  which  was  based  upon  detailed  Statements  of  the 
manufacturers,  asserts  that  the  poor  rate  was  taking  the  average,  twice  as  high 
as  in  1839,  and  that  the  number  of  persons  requiring  relief  has  trebled,  even 
quintupled,  since  that  time;  that  a multitude  of  applicants  belong  to  a dass 
which  had  never  before  solicited  relief;  that  the  working  dass  commands  more 
than  two-thirds  less  of  the  means  of  subsistence  than  from  1834 — 1836;  that 
the  consumption  of  meat  had  been  decidedly  less;  in  some  places  twenty  per 
Cent,  in  others  reaching  sixty  per  cent.  less;  that  even  handicraftsmen, 
smiths,  bricklayers  and  others,  who  usually  have  full  employment  in  the 


* And  it  came  in  1847. 


6o 


most  depressed  periods,  now  suffered  greatly  from  want  of  work  and  reduction 
of  wages;  and  that,  even  now,  in  January,  1843,  wages  are  still  steadily  falling. 
And  these  are  the  reports  of  manufacturers!  The  starving  workmen,  whose 
mills  were  idle,  whose  employers  could  give  them  no  work,  stood  in  the  streets 
in  all  directions,  begged  singly  or  in  crowds,  besieged  the  sidewalks  in  armies, 
and  appealed  to  the  passers-by  for  help;  they  begged,  not  cringing  like  ordinary 
beggars,  but  threatening  by  their  numbers,  their  gestures,  and  their  words. 
Such  was  the  state  of  things  in  all  the  industrial  districts,  from  Leicester  to 
Leeds,  and  from  Manchester  to  Birmingham.  Here  and  there  disturbances 
arose,  as  in  the  Staff ordshire  potteries,  in  July.  The  most  frightful  excitement 
prevailed  among  the  workers  until  the  general  insurrection  broke  out  throughout 
the  manufacturing  districts  in  August.  When  I came  to  Manchester  in  Novem- 
ber, 1842,  there  were  crowds  of  unemployed  workingmen  at  every  Street  corner, 
and  many  mills  were  still  Standing  idle.  In  the  following  months  these  unwill- 
ing  Corner  loafers  gradually  vanished,  and  the  factories  came  into  activity  once 
more. 

To  what  extent  want  and  suffering  prevail  among  these  unemployed  during 
such  a crisis,  I need  not  describe.  The  poor  rates  are  insufficient,  vastly  insuf- 
ficient;  the  philanthropy  of  the  rieh  is  a rain  drop  in  the  ocean,  lost  in  the 
moment  of  falling,  beggary  can  support  but  few  among  the  crowds.  If  the 
small  dealers  did  not  seil  to  the  working  people  on  credit  at  such  times  as  long 
-as  possible — paying  themselves  liberally  afterwards  it  must  be  confessed — and  if 
the  working  people  did  not  help  each  other,  every  crisis  would  remove  a multi- 
tude  of  the  surplus  through  death  by  starvation.  Since,  however,  the  most 
depressed  period  is  brief,  lasting  at  worst,  but  one,  two,  or  two  and  a half  years, 
most  of  them  emerge  from  it  with  their  lives  after  dire  privations.  But  in- 
directly  by  disease,  etc.,  every  crisis  finds  a multitude  of  victims  as  we  shall  see. 
First,  however,  let  us  turn  to  another  cause  of  abasement  to  which  the  English 
worker  is  exposed,  a cause  permanently  active  in  forcing  the  whole  dass  down- 
wards. 

Irish  Immigration. 

We  have  already  referred  several  times  in  passing,  to  the  Irish  who  have  im- 
migrated  into  England;  and  we  shall  now  h:.ve  to  investigate  more  closely  the 
causes  and  results  of  this  Immigration. 

The  rapid  extension  of  English  industry  could  not  have  taken  place,  if  Eng- 
land had  not  possessed  in  the  numerous  and  impoverished  population  of  Ireland 
a reserve  at  command.  The  Irish  had  nothing  to  lose  at  home,  and  much  to 
gain  in  England;  and  from  the  time  when  it  became  known  in  Ireland  that  the 
east  side  of  St.  George’s  channel  offered  steady  wofk  and  good  pay  for  strong 
;arms,  every  year  has  brought  armies  of  the  Irish  hither.  It  has  been  calculated 
that  more  than  a million  have  already  immigrated,  and  not  far  from  fifty 
thousand  still  come  every  year,  nearly  all  of  whom  enter  the  industrial  dis- 
tricts, especially  the  great  cities,  and  there  form  the  lowest  dass  of  the  popula- 


6i 


tion.  Thus  there  are  in  London,  120,000;  in  Manchester,  40,000;  in  Liverpool, 
34,000;  Bristol,  24,000;  Glasgow,  40,000;  Edinburg,  29,000,  poor  Irish  people.'^ 
These  people  having  grown  up  almost  without  civilization,  accustomed  from 
youth  to  every  sort  of  privation,  roiigh,  intemperate  and  improvident,  bring  all 
their  brutal  habits  with  them  among  a dass  of  the  English  population  which  has, 
in  truth,  little  inducement  to  cultivate  education  and  morality.  Let  us  hear 
Thomas  Carlyle  upon  this  subject:^  ‘ 

“ The  wild  Milesian  features,  looking  false  ingenuity,  restlessness,  unreason 
misery  and  mockery,  salute  you  on  all  highways  and  byways.  The  English 
coachman  as  he  w lirls  past,  lashes  the  Milesian  with  his  whip,  curses  him  with 
his  tongue;  the  Milesian  is  holding  out  his  hat  to  beg.  He  is  the  sorest  evil 
this  country  has  .0  strive  with.  In  his  rags  and  laughing  savagery,  he  is  there 
to  undertake  all  work  that  can  be  done  by  mere  strength  of  hand  and  back;  for 
wages  that  will  purchase  him  potatoes.  He  needs  only  salt  for  condiment,  he 
lodges  to  his  mind  in  any  pighutch  or  doghutch,  roosts  in  outhouses,  and  wears  a 
suit  of  tatters,  the  getting  on  and  off  of  which  is  said  to  be  a difficult  Operation, 
transacted  only  in  festivals  and  the  high  tides  of  the  calendar.  The  Saxon  man, 
if  he  cannot  work  on  these  terms,  finds  no  work.  The  uncivilized  Irishman,  not 
by  his  strength,  but  by  the  opposite  of  strength,  drives  the  Saxon  native  out, 
takes  possession  in  his  room.  There  abides  he,  in  his  squalor  and  unreason,  in 
his  falsity  and  drunken  violence,  as  the  ready  made  nucleus  of  degradation  and 
disorder.  Whoever  struggles,  swimming  with  difficulty,  may  now  find  an  ex- 
ample  how  the  human  being  can  exist  not  swimming  but  sunk.  That  the  con- 
dition of  the  lower  multitude  of  English  laborers  approximates  more  and  more 
to  that  of  the  Irish,  competing  with  them  in  all  the  markets;  that  whatsoever 
labor,  to  which  mere  strength  with  little  skill  will  suffice,  is  to  be  done,  will  be 
done  not  at  the  English  price,  but  at  an  approximation  to  the  Irish  price;  at  a 
price  Superior  as  yet  to  the  Irish,  that  is,  superior  to  scarcity  of  potatoes  for 
thirty  weeks  yearly;  superior,  yet  hourly,  with  the  arrival  of  every  new  steam- 
boat,  sinking  nearer  to  an  equality  with  that.” 

If  we  except  his  exaggerated  and  one-sided  condemnation  of  the  Irish  national 
character,  Carlyle  is  perfectly  right.  These  Irishmen  who  migrate  for  fourpence 
to  England,  on  the  deck  of  a steamship  on  which  they  are  often  packed  like 
cattle,  insinuate  themselves  everywhere.  The  worst  dwellings  are  good  enough 
for  them;  their  clothing  causes  them  little  trouble,  so  long  as  it  holds  together 
by  a single  thread,  shoes  they  know  not;  their  food  consists  of  potatoes  and 
potatoes  only;  whatever  they  earn  beyond  these  needs  they  spend  upon  drink. 
What  does  such  a race  want  with  high  wages?  The  worst  quarters  of  all  the 
large  towns  are  inhabited  by  Irishmen.  Whenever  a district  is  distinguished 
for  especial  filth  and  especial  ruinousness,  the  explorer  may  safely  count  upon 
meeting  chiefly  those  Celtic  faces  which  one  recognizes  at  the  first  glance  as  dif- 
ferent from  the  Saxon  physiognomy  of  the  native,  and  the  singing,  aspirate 
brogue  which  the  true  Irishman  never  loses.  I have  occasionally  heard  the 
Irish-Celtic  language  spoken  in  the  most  thickly  populated  parts  of  Manchester. 
The  majority  of  the  families  who  live  in  cellars  are  almost  everywhere  of  Irish 

♦ Archibald  Alison,  Principles  of  Population  and  their  Connection  with  Human  Happiness,  two 
vols.,  1840.  This  Ahson  is  the  Historian  of  the  French  Revolution,  and,  like  his  brother,  Dr.  W. 
P,  Alison,  a religious  Tory. 

2 Chartism,  pp.  28,  31,  etc. 


62 


origin.  In  short,  the  Irish  have,  as  Dr.  Kay  says,  discovered  the  minium  of 
the  necessities  of  life,  and  are  now  making  the  English  workers  acquainted  with 
it.  Filth  and  drunkenness,  too,  they  have  brought  with  them.  The  lack  of 
cleanliness  which  is  not  so  injurious  in  the  country  where  population  is  scattered, 
and  which  is  the  Irishman’s  second  nature,  becomes  terrifying  and  gravely 
dangerous  through  its  concentration  here  in  the  great  cities.  The  Milesian  de- 
posits  all  garbage  and  filth  before  his  house-door  here,  as  he  was  accustomed  to 
do  at  home,  and  so  accumulates  the  pools  and  dirt  heaps  which  disfigure  the 
working  peoples’  quarters  and  poison  the  air.  He  builds  a pigsty  against  the 
house  wall  as  he  did  at  home,  and  if  he  is  prevented  from  doing  this,  he  lets  the 
pig  sleep  in  the  room  with  himself.  This  new  and  unnatural  method  of  cattle 
raising  in  cities  is  wholly  of  Irish  origin.  The  Irishman  loves  his  pig  as  the 
Arab  his  horse,  with  the  difference  that  he  sells  it  when  it  is  fat  enough  to  kill. 
Otherwise,  he  eats  and  sleeps  with  it,  his  children  play  with  it,  ride  upon  it,  roll 
in  the  dirt  with  it,  as  any  one  may  see  a thousand  times  repeated  in  all  the  great 
towns  of  England.  The  filth  and  comfortlessness  that  prevail  in  the  houses 
themselves,  it  is  impossible  to  describe.  The  Irishman  is  unaccustomed  to  the 
presence  of  furniture;  a heap  of  straw,  a few  rags,  utterly  beyond  use  as  cloth- 
ing,  suffice  for  his  nightly  couch.  A piece  of  wood,  a broken  chair,  an  old  ehest 
for  a table,  more  he  needs  not;  a tea  kettle,  a few  pots  and  dishes,  equip  his 
kitchen,  which  is  also  his  sleeping  and  living  room.  When  he  is  in  want  of  fuel, 
everything  combustible  within  his  reach,  chairs,  door-posts,  mouldings,  flooring, 
finds  its  way  up  the  chimney.  Moreover,  why  should  he  need  much  room  ? At 
home  in  his  mud  cabin,  there  was  only  one  room  for  all  domestic  purposes; 
more  than  one  room  his  family  does  not  need  in  England.  So  the  custom  of 
crowding  many  persons  into  a single  room,  now  so  universal,  has  been  chiefly 
implanted  by  the  Irish  immigration.  And  since  the  poor  devil  must  have  one 
enjoyment  and  society  has  shut  him  out  of  all  others,  he  betakes  himself  to  the 
drinking  of  spirits.  Drink  is  the  only  thing  which  makes  the  Irishman’s  life 
worth  having,  drink  and  his  cheery  carefree  temperament;  so  he  revels  in  drink 
to  the  point  of  the  most  bestial  drunkenness.  The  Southern,  facile  character  of 
the  Irishman,  his  crudity,  which  places  him  but  little  above  the  savage,  his  con- 
tempt  for  all  humane  enjoyments  in  which  his  very  crudeness  make  him  in- 
capable  of  sharing,  his  filth  and  poverty  all  favor  urunkenness.  The  temptation 
is  great,  he  cannot  resist  it,  and  so  when  he  has  money  he  gets  rid  of  it,  down 
his  throat.  What  eise  should  he  do  ? How  can  society  blame  him  when  it 
places  him  in  a position  in  which  he  almost  of  necessity  becomes  a drunkard; 
when  it  leaves  him  to  himself,  to  his  savagery? 

With  such  a competitor  the  English  workingman  has  to  struggle,  with  a com- 
petitor  upon  the  lowest  plane  possible  in  a civilized  country,  who  for  this  very 
reason  requires  less  wages  than  any  other.  Nothing  eise  is  therefore  possible 
than  that,  as  Carlyle  says,  the  wages  of  English  workingmen  should  be  forced 
down  further  and  furthsr  in  every  branch  in  which  the  Irish  compete  with  him. 
And  these  branches  are  many.  All  such  as  demand  little  or  no  skill  are  open  to 


63 


the  Irish.  For  work  which  requires  long  training  or  regulär,  perdnacio^s 
application,  the  dissoliite,  unsteady,  drunken  Irishman  is  on  too  low  a plane. 
To  become  a mechanic,  a millhand,  he  would  have  to  adopt  the  English  civiliza- 
tion,  the  English  customs,  become,  in  the  main,  an  Englishman.  But  for  all 
simple,  less  exact  work,  wherever  it  is  a question  more  of  strength  than  skill,  the 
Irishman  is  as  good  as  the  Englishman.  Such  occupations  are  therefore 
especially  overcrowded  with  Irishmen;  handweavers,  bricklayers,  porters,  Job- 
bers, and  such  workers,  count  hordes  of  Irishmen  among  their  number,  and  the 
pressure  of  this  race  has  done  much  to  depress  wages  and  lower  the  working 
dass.  And  even  if  the  Irish,  who  have  forced  their  way  into  other  occupations, 
should  become  more  civilized,  enough  of  the  old  habits  would  ding  to  them  to 
have  a strong  degrading  influence  upon  their  English  companions  in  toil, 
especially  in  view  of  the  general  effect  of  being  surrounded  by  the  Irish.  For 
when,  in  almost  every  great  city,  a fifth  or  a quarter  of  the  vrorkers  are  Irish,  or 
children  of  Irish  parents,  who  have  grown  up  among  Irish  filth,  no  one  can 
wonder  if  the  life,  habits,  intelligence,  moral  Status,  in  short,  the  whole  charac- 
ter  of  the  working  dass  assimilates  a great  part  of  the  Irish  characteristics.  On 
the  contrary,  it  is  easy  to  understand  how  the  degrading  position  of  the  English 
workers,  engendered  by  our  modern  history,  and  its  immediate  consequences 
has  been  still  more  degraded  by  the  presence  of  Irish  cornpetition. 

Results. 

Having  now  investigated,  somewhat  in  detail,  the  conditions  under  which  the 
English  working  dass  lives,  it  is  time  to  draw  some  further  inferences  from  the 
facts  presented,  and  then  to  compare  our  inferences  with  the  actual  state  of  things. 
Let  US  see  what  the  workers  themselves  have  become  under  the  given  circum- 
stances,  whatsort  of  people  they  are,  what  their  physical,  mental  and  moral  Status. 

When  one  individual  inflicts  bodily  injury  upon  another,  such  injury  that 
death  results,  we  call  the  deed  manslaughter;  when  the  assailant  knew  in 
advance  that  the  injury  would  be  fatal,  we  call  his  deed  murder.  But  when 
society*  places  hundreds  of  proletarians  in  such  a position  that  they  inevitably 
meet  a too  early  and  an  unnatural  death,  one  which  is  quite  as  much  a death  by 
violence  as  that  by  the  sword  or  bullet;  when  it  deprives  thousands  of  the 
necessaries  of  life,  places  them  under  conditions  in  which  they  cannot  live; 
forces  them,  through  the  strong  arm  of  the  law  to  remain  in  such  condi- 
tions until  that  death  ensues  which  is  the  inevitable  consequence;  knows 
that  these  thousands  of  victims  must  perish  and  yet  permits  these  condi- 


* When  as  here  and  elsewhere  I speak  of  society  as  a responsible  whole,  having  rights  an(i 
duties,  I mean,  of  course.  the  ruling  power  of  society,  the  dass  which  at  present  holds  social  and 
political  Control,  and  bears,  therefore,  the  responsibility  for  the  condition  of  those  to  whom  it 
grants  no  share  in  such  control.  This  ruling  dass  in  England,  as  in  all  other  civilized  countries, 
is  the  bourgeoisie.  But  that  this  society,  and  especially  the  bourgeoisie,  is  charged  with  the  duty 
of  protecting  every  member  of  society,  at  least  in  his  life,  to  see  to  it,  for  example,  that  no  one 
starves,  I need  not  now  prove  to  my  German  readers.  If  I were  writing  for  the  English  bour- 
geoisie, the  case  would  be  different.  ( And  so  it  is  now  in  Germany.  Our  German  capitahsts  are 
fully  up  to  the  English  level,  in  this  respect  at  least,  in  the  year  of  grace,  1886.) 


64 


tions  to  remain,  its  deed  is  murder  just  as  surely  as  the  deed  of  the  single  in- 
dividual; disguised,  malicious  murder,  murder  against  which  none  can  defend 
himself  which  does  not  seem  what  it  is,  because  no  man  sees  the  murderer, 
because  the  death  of  the  victim  seems  a natural  one,  since  the  offence  is  more 
one  of  Omission  than  of  Commission.  But  murder  it  remains.  I have  now  to 
prove  that  society  in  England  daily  and  hourly  commits  what  the  workingmens’ 
Organs,  with  perfect  correctness,  characterize  as  social  murder,  that  it  has  placed 
tlie  workers  under  conditions  in  which  they  can  neither  retain  health  nor  live 
long;  that  it  undermines  the  vital  force  of  these  workers  gradually,  little  by  little, 
and  so  hurries  them  to  the  grave  before  their  time.  I have  further  to  prove, 
that  society  knows  how  injurious  such  conditions  are  to  the  health  and  the  life 
of  the  workers,  and  yet  does  nothing  to  improve  these  conditions.  That  it 
knows  the  consequences  of  its  deeds;  that  its  act  is,  therefore,  not  mere  man- 
slaughter  but  murder,  I shall  have  proved,  when  I eite  ofificial  documents, 
reports  of  Parliament  and  of  the  Government,  in  substantiation  of  my  Charge. 

That  a dass  which  lives  under  the  conditions  already  sketched,  and  is  so  ill 
provided  with  the  most  necessary  means  of  subsistence  cannot  be  healthy  and 
can  reach  no  advanced  age,  is  self-evident.  Let  us  review  the  circumstances 
once  more  with  especial  reference  to  the  health  of  the  workers.  The  centraliza- 
tion  of  population  in  great  cities  exercises  of  itself  an  unfavorable  influence;  the 
atmosphere  of  London  can  never  be  so  pure,  so  rieh  in  oxygen,  as  the  air  of  the 
country;  two  and  a half  million  pairs  of  lungs,  two  hundred  fifty  thousand  fires 
crowded  upon  an  area  three  to  four  miles  square,  consume  an  enormous  amount 
of  oxygen  which  is  replaced  with  difficulty,  because  the  method  of  building 
cities  in  itself  impedes  Ventilation.  The  carbonic  acid  gas,  engendered  by 
respiration  and  fire,  remains  in  the  streets  by  reason  of  its  specific  gravity,  and 
the  chief  air  current  passes  over  the  roofs  of  the  city.  The  lungs  of  the  in- 
habitants  fail  to  receive  the  due  supply  of  oxygen,  and  the  consequence  is 
mental  and  physical  lassitude  and  low  vitality.  For  this  reason  the  dwcllers  in 
cities  are  far  less  exposed  to  acute,  and  especially  to  inflammatory  affections, 
than  rural  populations,  who  live  in  a free  normal  atmosphere;  but  they  suffer  the 
more  from  chronic  affections.  And  if  life  in  large  cities  is,  in  itself,  injurious  to 
the  health,  how  great  must  be  the  harmful  influence  of  an  abnormal  atmosphere 
in  the  working  peoples’  quarters,  where,  as  we  have  seen,  everything  combines 
to  poison  the  air.  In  the  country  it  may,  perhaps,  be  comparatively  innoxious 
to  keep  a düng  heap  adjoining  one’s  dwelling,  because  the  air  has  free  ingress 
from  all  sides;  but  in  the  midst  of  a great  city,  among  closely  built  lanes  and 
Courts  that  shut  out  all  movement  of  the  atmosphere,  the  case  is  different.  All 
putrefying  vegetable  and  animal  substances  give  off  gases  decidecly  injurious 
to  the  health,  and  if  these  gases  have  no  free  way  of  escape,  they  inevitably 
poison  the  atmosphere.  The  filth  and  stagnant  pools  of  the  working  peoples’ 
quarters  in  the  great  cities  have  therefore  the  worst  effect  upon  the  public 
health,  because  they  produce  precisely  those  gases  which  engender  disease;  so, 
too,  the  exhalations  from  contaminated  streams.  But  this  is  by  no  means  all. 


65 


The  manner  in  which  the  great  multitude  of  the  poor  is  treated  by  society  to-day 
is  revolling.  They  are  drawn  inlo  the  large  cities  where  they  breathe  a poorcr 
atmosphere  than  in  the  country;  they  are  lelegated  to  districts  which,  by  reason 
of  the  method  of  construction,  are  worse  ventilated  than  any  others;  they  are 
deprived  of  all  means  of  cleanliness,  of  water  itself,  since  pipes  are  laid  only 
when  paid  for,  and  the  rivers  so  polluted  that  they  are  useless  for  such  purposes; 
they  are  obliged  to  throw  all  offal  and  garbage,  all  dirty  water,  often  all  dis- 
gusting  drainage  and  excrement  into  the  streets,  being  without  other  means  of 
disposing  of  them;  they  are  thus  compelled  to  infect  the  region  of  their  own 
dwellings.  Nor  is  this  enough.  All  conceivable  evils  are  heaped  upon  the 
heads  of  the  poor.  If  the  population  of  great  cities  is  too  dense  in  general,  it  is 
they  in  particular  who  are  packed  into  the  least  space.  As  though  the  vitiated 
atmosphere  of  the  streets  were  not  enough,  they  are  penned,  in  dozens,  into 
single  rooms,  so  that  the  air  which  they  breathe  at  night  is  enough  in  itself  to 
stifle  them.  They  are  given  damp  dwellings,  cellar  dens  that  are  not  Water- 
proof from  below,  or  garrets  that  leak  from  above.  Their  houses  are  so  built 
that  the  clammy  air  cannot  escape.  They  are  supplied  bad,  tattered,  or  rotten 
clothing,  adulterated  and  indigestible  food.  They  are  exposed  to  the  most  ex- 
citing  changes  of  mental  condition,  the  most  violent  vibrations  between  hope 
and  fear;  they  are  stirred  up  like  game,  and  not  permitted  to  attain  peace  of 
mind  and  quiet  enjoyment  of  life.  They  are  deprived  of  all  enjoyments  exccpt 
that  of  sexual  indulgence  and  drunkenness,  are  worked  every  day  to  the  point  of 
complete  exhaustion  of  their  mental  and  physical  energies,  and  are  thus  constantly 
spurred  on  to  the  maddest  excess  in  the  only  two  enjoyments  at  their  command. 
And  if  they  surmount  all  this,  they  fall  victims  to  want  of  work  in  a crisis  when 
all  the  little  is  taken  from  them  that  had  hitherto  been  vouchsafed  them. 

How  is  it  possible,  under  such  conditions,  for  the  lower  dass  to  be  healthy 
and  long  lived  ? What  eise  can  be  expected  than  an  excessive  mortality,  an  un- 
broken  series  of  epidemics,  a progressive  deterioration  in  the  physique  of  the 
working  population  ? Let  us  see  how  the  facts  stand. 

That  the  dwellings  of  the  workers  in  the  worst  portions  of  the  cities,  together 
with  the  other  conditions  of  life  of  this  dass  engender  numerous  diseases,  is  at- 
tested  on  all  sides,  The  article  already  quoted  from  the  Artizan,  asserts  with 
perfect  truth,  that  lung  diseases  must  be  the  inevitable  consequence  of  such  con- 
ditions, and  that  indeed  cases  of  this  kind  are  disproportionately  frequent  in  this 
dass.  That  the  bad  air  of  London,  and  especially  of  the  working  peoples’  dis- 
tricts, is  in  the  highest  degree  favorable  to  the  development  of  consumption,  the 
hectic  appearance  of  great  numbers  of  persons  sufficiently  indicates.  If  one 
roams  the  streets  a little,  in  the  early  morning  when  the  multitudes  are  on  their 
way  to  their  work,  one  is  amazed  at  the  number  of  persons  who  look  wholly  or 
half  consumptive.  Even  in  Manchester  the  people  have  not  the  same  appear- 
ance; these  pale,  lank,  narrow-chested,  hollow-eyed  ghosts,  whom  one  passes  at 
every  Step,  these  languid,  flabby  faces,  incapable  of  the  slightest  energetic  ex- 
pression,  I have  seen  in  such  startling  numbers  only  in  London,  though  con- 


66 


siimption  carries  off  a horde  of  victims  annually  in  tlie  factory  towns  of  the 
North.  In  competition  with  consumption  Stands  typhus,  to  say  nothing  of 
scarlet  fever,  a disease  which  brings  most  frightful  devastation  into  the  ranks 
of  the  working  dass.  Typhus,  that  universally  diffused  affliction,  is  attributed 
by  the  official  report  on  the  Sanitary  Condition  of  the  Working  dass,  directly  to 
the  bad  state  of  the  dwellings  in  the  matters  of  Ventilation,  drainage  and  cleanli- 
ness.  This  report,  compiled,  it  must  not  be  forgotten,  by  the  leading  phy- 
sicians of  England  from  the  testimony  of  other  physicians,  asserts  that  a single 
ill-ventilated  couit,  a single  blind  alley  without  drainage,  is  enough  to  engender 
fever  and  usually  does  engender  it,  especially  if  the  inhabitants  are  greatly 
crowded.  This  fever  has  the  same  character  almost  everywhere,  and  developes  - 
in  nearly  every  case  into  specific  typhus.  It  is  to  be  found  in  the  working 
people’s  quarters  of  all  great  towns  and  eitles,  and  in  single  ill-built,  ill-kept 
Streets  of  smaller  places,  though  it  naturally  seeks  out  single  victims  in  better 
districts  also.  In  London  it  has  now  prevailed  for  a considerable  time;  its  ex- 
traordinary  violence  in  the  year  1837  gave  rise  to  the  Report  already  referred  to. 
According  to  the  annual  report  of  Dr.  Southwood  Smith  on  the  London  Fever 
Hospital,  the  number  of  patients  in  1843  was  1,462,  or  418  more  than  in 
any  previous  year.  In  the  damp,  dirty  regions  of  the  North,  South  and  East 
districts  of  London,  this  disease  raged  with  extraordinary  violence.  Many  of 
the  patients  were  working  people  from  the  country,  who  had  endured  the 
severest  privation  while  migrating,  and,  after  their  arrival,  had  slept  hungry  and 
half  naked  in  the  streets,  and  so  fallen  victims  to  the  fever.  These  people  were 
brought  into  the  hospital  in  such  a state  of  weakness,  that  unusual  quantities  of 
wine,  cognac,  and  preparations  of  ammonia  and  other  stimulants  were  required 
for  their  treatment;  i6l^  % of  all  patients  died.  This  malignant  fever  is  to  be 
found  in  Manchester;  in  the  worst  quarters  of  the  Old  Town,  Ancoats,  Little 
Ireland,  etc.,  it  is  rarely  extinct;  though  here,  as  in  the  English  towns  generally, 
it  prevails  to  a less  extent  than  might  be  expected.  In  Scotland  and  Ireland,  on 
the  other  hand,  it  rages  with  a violence  that  surpasses  all  conception.  In  Edin- 
burg  and  Glasgow  it  broke  out  in  1817,  after  the  famine,  and  in  1826  and  1837, 
with  especial  violence,  after  the  commercial  crises  subsiding  somewhat  each  time 
after  having  raged  about  three  years.  In  Edinburg  about  6,000  persons  were 
attacked  by  the  fever  during  the  epidemic  of  1817,  and  about  10,000  in  that  of 
1837,  and  not  only  the  number  of  persons  attacked  but  the  violence  of  the  dis- 
ease increased  with  each  repetition.* 

But  the  fury  of  the  epidemic  in  all  former  periods  seems  to  have  been  child's 
play  in  comparisori  with  its  ravages  after  the  crisis  of  1842.  One-sixth  of  the 
whole  indigent  population  of  Scotland  was  seized  by  the  fever,  and  the  infection 
was  carried  by  wandering  beggars  with  fearful  rapidity  from  one  locality  to 
another.  It  did  not  reach  the  middle  and  upper  classes  of  the  population,  yet  in 
tvvo  months  there  were  more  fever  cases  than  in  twelve  years  before.  In  Glas- 


♦ Dr.  Alison.  Management  of  the  Poor  in  Scotland. 


67 


gow,  twelve  per  cent.  of  the  population  were  seized  in  the  year  1843;  32,000 
p>ersons,  of  whom  thirty-two  per  cent.  perished,  while  the  mortality  of  Manches- 
ter and  Liverpool  does  not  ordinarily  exceed  eight  per  cent.  The  illness  reached 
a crisis  on  the  seventh  and  fifteenth  days;  on  the  latter,  the  patient  usually  be- 
came  yellow,  which  our  authority* *  regards  as  an  indication  Ihat  the  cause  of  the 
malady  was  to  be  sought  in  mental  excitement  and  anxiety.  In  Ireland,  too, 
these  fever  epidemics  have  become  domesticated.  Düring  twenty-one  months  of 
the  years  1817 — 1818,  39,000  fever  patients  passed  through  the  Dublin  hospital; 
and  in  a more  recent  year,  according  to  Sheriff  Alison,*  60,000.  In  Cork,  the 
fever  hospital  received  one-seventh  of  the  population  in  1817 — 1818,  in 
Limerick  in  the  same  time  one-fourth,  and  in  the  bad  quarter  of  Waterford, 
nineteen-twentieths  of  the  whole  population  were  ill  of  the  fever  at  one  time. 

When  one  remembers  under  what  conditions  the  working  people  live,  when 
one  thinks  how  crowded  their  dwellings  are,  how  every  nook  and  corner  swarms 
with  human  beings,  how  sick  and  well  sleep  in  the  same  room,  in  the  same  bed, 
the  only  wonder  is  that  a contagious  disease  like  this  fever  does  not  spread  yet 
further.  And  when  one  reflects  how  little  medical  assistance  the  sick  have  at 
command,  how  many  are  without  any  medical  advice  whatsoever,  and  ignorant 
of  the  most  ordinary  precautionary  measures,  the  mortality  seems  actually  small. 
Dr.  Alison,  who  has  made  a careful  study  of  this  disease,  attributes  it  directly 
to  the  want  and  the  wretched  condition  of  the  poor,  as  in  the  report  already 
quoted.  He  asserts  that  privations  and  the  insufficient  satisfaction  of  vital  needs 
are  what  prepare  the  frame  for  contagion  and  make  the  epidemic  widespread 
and  terrible.  He  proves  that  a period  of  privation,  a commercial  crisis  or  a bad 
harvest,  has  each  time  produced  the  typhus  epidemic  in  Ireland  as  in  Scotland, 
and  that  the  fury  of  the  plague  has  fallen  almost  exclusively  on  the  working 
dass.  It  is  a noteworthy  fact,  that  according  to  his  testimony,  the  majority  of 
persons  who  perish  by  typhus  are  fathers  of  families,  precisely  the  persons  who 
can  least  be  spared  by  those  dependent  upon  them;  and  several  Irish  physicians 
whom  he  quotes,  bear  the  same  testimony. 

Another  category  of  diseases  arises  directly  from  the  food  rather  than  the 
dwellings  of  the  workers.  The  food  of  the  laborer,  indigestible  enough  in  itself, 
is  utterly  unfit  for  young  children,  and  he  has  neither  means  nor  time  to 
get  his  children  more  suitable  food.  Moreover,  the  custom  of  giving  children 
spirits,  and  even  opium,  is  very  general;  and  these  two  influences  with  the  rest 
of  the  conditions  of  life  prejudicial  to  bodily  development,  give  rise  to  the  most 
diverse  affections  of  the  digestive  Organs,  leaving  life-long  traces  behind  them. 
Nearly  all  workers  have  stomachs  more  or  less  weak,  and  are  yet  forced  to 
adhere  to  the  diet  which  is  the  root  of  the  evil.  How  should  they  know  what  is 
to  blame  for  it  ? And  if  they  knew,  how  could  they  obtain  a more  suitable 
regimen  so  long  as  they  cannot  adopt  a different  way  of  living  and  are  not  better 

♦ Alison.  Principles  of  Population,  Vol.  II. 

* * Dr.  Alison  in  an  article  read  before  the  British  Association  for  the  Advancement  of  Science» 
October,  1844,  in  York. 


68 


educated  ? But  new  disease  arises  during  childhood  from  impaired  digestion. 
Scrophula  is  almost  universal  among  the  working  dass,  and  scrophulous  parents 
have  scrophulous  children,  especially  when  the  original  influences  continue  in 
full  force  to  operate  upon  the  inherited  tendency  of  the  children.  A second 
consequence  of  this  insufficient  bodily  nourishment,  during  the  years  of  growth 
and  development,  is  rachitis,  which  is  extremely  common  among  the  children  of 
the  working  dass.  The  hardening  of  the  bones  is  delayed,  the  development  of 
the  Skeleton  in  general  is  restricted,  and  deformities  of  the  legs  and  spinal 
column  are  frequent,  in  addition  to  the  usual  rachitic  affections.  How  greatly 
all  these  evils  are  increased  by  the  changes  to  which  the  workers  are  subject  in 
consequence  c-f  fluctuations  in  trade,  want  of  work,  and  the  scanty  wages  of 
times  of  crisis,  it  is  not  necessary  to  dwell  upon.  Temporary  want  of  sufficient 
food,  to  which  almost  every  workingman  is  exposed  at  least  once  in  the  course 
of  his  life,  only  contributes  to  intensify  the  effects  of  his  usual  sufficient  but  bad 
diet.  Children  who  are  half  starved  just  when  they  most  need  ample  and  nutri- 
tious  food — and  how  many  such  there  are  during  every  crisis  and  even  when 
trade  is  at  its  best — must  inevitably  become  weak,  scrophulous,  and  rachitic  in  a 
high  degree.  And  that  they  do  becomc  so,  their  appearance  amply  shows.  The 
neglect  to  which  the  great  mass  of  workingmen’s  children  are  condemned  leaves 
ineradicable  traces  and  brings  the  enfeeblement  of  the  whole  race  of  workers 
with  it.  Add  to  this,  the  unsuitable  clothing  of  this  dass,  the  impossibility  of 
precautions  against  colds,  the  necessity  of  toiling  so  long  as  health  permits, 
want  made  rnore  dire  when  sickness  appears,  and  the  only  too  common  lack  of 
all  medical  assistance;  and  we  have  a rough  idea  of  the  sanitary  condition  of  the 
English  working  dass.  The  injurious  effects  peculiar  to  single  employments  as 
now  conducted,  I shall  not  deal  witff  here. 

Besides  these,  there  are  other  influences  which  enfeeble  the  health  of  a great 
number  of  workers,  intemperance  most  of  all.  All  possible  temptations,  all 
allurements  combine  to  bring  the  vrorkers  to  drunkenness.  Liquor  is  almost 
their  only  source  of  pleasure,  and  all  things  conspire  to  make  it  accessible  to 
them,  The  workingman  comes  from  his  work  tired,  exhausted,  finds  his 
home  comfortless,  damp,  dirty,  repulsive;  he  has  urgent  need  of  recreation,  he 
must  have  something  to  make  work  worth  his  trouble,  to  make  the  prospect  of 
the  next  day  endurable.  His  unnerved,  uncomfortable,  hypochondriac  state  of 
mind  and  body  arising  from  his  unhealthy  condition,  and  especially  from  Indi- 
gestion, is  aggravated  beyond  endurance  by  the  general  conditions  of  his  life, 
the  uncertainty  of  his  existence,  his  dependence  upon  all  possible  accidents  and 
chances,  and  his  inability  to  do  anything  towards  gaining  an  assured  position. 
His  enfeebled  frame,  weakened  by  bad  air  and  bad  food,  violently  demands 
some  external  Stimulus;  his  social  need  can  be  gratified  only  in  the  public  house, 
he  has  absolutely  no  other  place  where  he  can  meet  his  friends.  How  can  he 
be  expected  to  resist  the  temptation  ? It  is  morally  and  physically  inevitable 
that,  under  such  circumstances,  a very  large  number  of  workingmen  should  fall 
into  intemperance.  And  apart  from  the  chiefly  physical  influences  which  drive 


— 69  — 

the  workmgman  into  drunlcenness,  there  is  the  example  of  the  great  mass,  the 
neglected  education,  the  impossibility  of  protecting  the  young  from  temptation, 
in  many  cases  the  direct  influence  of  intemperate  parents,  who  give  their  own 
children  liquor,  the  certainty  of  forgetting  for  an  hour  or  two  the  wretchedness 
and  bürden  of  life,  and  a hundred  other  circumstances  so  mighty  that  the  work- 
ers  can,  in  truth,  hardly  be  blamed  for  yielding  to  such  overwhelming  pressure. 
Drunkenness  has  here  ceased  to  be  a vice,  for  which  the  vicious  can  be  held  re- 
sponsible;  it  becomes  a phenomenon,  the  necessaiy  inevitable  effect  of  certain 
conditions  upon  an  object  possessed  of  no  volition  in  relation  to  those  conditions. 
They  who  have  degraded  the  workingman  to  a mere  object  have  the,  responsi- 
bility  to  bear.  But  as  inevitably  as  a great  number  of  workingmen  fall  a 
prey  to  drink,  just  so  inevitably  does  it  manifest  its  ruinous  influence  upon 
the  body  and  mind  of  its  victims.  All  the  tendencies  to  disease  arising  from 
the  conditions  of  life  of  the  workers  are  promoted  by  it,  it  stimulates  in  the 
highest  degree  the  development  of  lung  and  pelvic  troubles,  the  rise  and  spread 
of  typhus  epidemics. 

Another  source  of  physical  mischief  to  the  working  dass  lies  in  the  impossi- 
bility of  employing  skilled  physicians  in  cases  of  illness.  It  is  true  that  a num- 
ber of  charitable  institutions  strive  to  supply  this  want,  that  the  infirmary  in 
Manchester,  for  instance,receives  or  gives  advice  and  medicine  to  2,200  patients 
annually.  But  what  is  that  in  a city  in  which,  according  to  Gaskell’s  calcula- 
tion,*  three-fourths  of  the  population  need  medical  aid  every  year?  English 
doctors  Charge  high  fees,  and  workingmen  are  not  in  a position  to  pay  them. 
They  can  therefore  do  nothing,  or  are  compelled  to  call  in  cheap  charlatans, 
and  use  quack  remedies,  which  do  more  harm  than  good.  An  immense 
number  of  such  quacks  thrive  in  every  English  town,  securing  their  client^le 
among  the  poor  by  means  of  advertisements,  posters,  and  other  such  devices. 
Besides  these,  vast  quantities  of  patent  medicines  are  sold,  for  all  conceivable 
ailments:  Morrison’s  pills,  Parr’s  Life  pills,  Dr.  Mainwaring’s  pills,  and  a 
thousand  other  pills,  essences  and  balsams,  all  of  which  have  the  property  of 
curing  all  the  ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to.  These  medicines  rarely  contain  actually 
injurious  substances,  but,  when  taken  freely  and  often,  they  affect  the  System 
prejudicially;  and  as  the  unwary  purchasers  are  always  recommended  to  take  as 
much  as  possible,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  they  swallow  them  Whole- 
sale whether  wanted  or  not. 

It  is  by  no  means  unusual  for  the  manufacturer  of  Parr’s  Life  Pills  to  seil 
twenty  to  twenty-five  thousand  boxes  of  these  salutary  pills  in  a week,  and  they 
are  taken,  for  constipation  by  this  one,  for  diarrhcea  by  that  one,  for  fever,  weak- 
ness,  and  all  possible  ailments.  As  our  German  peasants  are  cupped  or  bled  at 
certain  seasons,  so  do  the  English  working  people  now  consume  patent  medi- 
cines to  their  own  injury  and  the  great  profit  of  the  manufacturer.  One  of  the 
most  injurious  of  these  patent  medicines  is  a drink  prepared  with  Opiates,  chiefly 


Manufacturing  Population.  Ch-8. 


70 


laudanum,  under  the  name  Godfrey’s  Cordial.  Women  who  work  at  home,  and 
have  their  own  and  other  people’s  cbildren  to  take  care  of,  give  them  this  drink 
to  keep  them  quiet,  and,  as  many  believe,  to  strengthen  them.  They  often 
begin  to  give  this  medicine  to  newly-born  children  and  continue,  without  know- 
ing  the  effects  of  this  heartsease,”  until  the  children  die.  The  less  suscepdble 
the  child’s  System  to  the  action  of  the  opium,  the  greater  the  quantities  admin- 
istered.  When  the  Cordial  ceases  to  act,  laudanum  alone  is  given,  often  to  the 
extent  of  fifteen  to  twenty  drops  at  a dose.  The  Coroner  of  Nottingham  testi- 
fied  before  a Parliamentary  Commission*  that  one  apothecary  had,  according  to 
his  own  Statement,  used  thirteen  hundred  weight  of  laudanum  in  one  year  in  the  ^ 
preparation  of  Godfrey’s  Cordial.  The  effects  upon  the  children  so  treated  may 
be  readily  imagined.  They  are  pale,  feeble,  wilted,  and  usually  die  before  com- 
pleting  the  second  year.  The  use  of  this  cordial  is  very  extensive  in  all  great 
towns  and  industrial  districts  in  the  Kingdom. 

The  result  of  all  these  influences  is  a general  enfeeblement  of  the  frame  in  the 
working  dass.  There  are  few  vigorous,  well-built,  healthy  persons  among  the 
workers,  i.  e.  among  the  factory  operatives,  who  are  employed  in  confined  rooms, 
and  we  are  here  discussing  these  only.  They  are  almost  all  weakly,  of  angular 
but  not  powerful  build,  lean,  pale  and  of  relaxed  fiber,  with  the  exception  of  the 
muscles  especially  exercised  in  their  work.  Nearly  all  suffer  from  Indigestion, 
and  consequently  from  a more  or  less  hypochondriac,  melancholy,  irritable, 
nervous  condition.  Their  enfeebled  constitutions  are  unable  to  resist  disease, 
and  are  therefore  seized  by  it  on  every  occasion.  Hence  they  age  prematurely, 
and  die  early.  On  this  point  the  mortality  statistics  supply  unquestionable 
testimony. 

According  tothe  Report  of  Registrar-General  Graham,  the  annual  death  rate  of 
all  England  and  Wales  is  something  less  than  2%  per  cent.  That  is  to  say,  out 
of  forty-five  persons,  one  dies  every  year.*  * This  was  the  average  for  the  year 
1839 — 40-  1840—41  the  mortality  diminished  somewhat,  and  the  death 

rate  was  but  one  in  forty-six.  But  in  the  great  cities  the  proportion  is  wholly 
different.  I have  before  me  ofhcial  tables  of  mortality,  (Manchester  Guardian^ 
July  3ist,  1844),  according  to  which  the  death  rate  of  several  great  cities  is  as 
follows:  In  Manchester,  including  Chorlton  and  Salford,  one  in  32.72;  and  ex- 
cluding  Chorlton  and  Salford,  one  in  30.75.  In  Liverpool,  including  West 
Derby,  (suburb),  31.90,  and  excluding  West  Derby,  29.90;  while  the  average  of 
all  the  districts  of  Cheshire,  Lancashire  and  Yorkshire  cited,  including  a num- 
ber  of  wholly  or  partially  rural  districts  and  many  small  towns  with  a total  popu- 
lation  -of  2,172,506  for  the  whole,  is  one  death  in  39.80  persons.  How 
unfavorably  the  workers  are  placed  in  the  great  cities,  the  mortality  for  Prescott 

* Report  of  Commission  of  Inquiry  into  the  Employment  of  Children  and  Young  Persons  in 
Mines  and  Colleries  and  in  the  Trades  and  Manufactures  in  which  numbers  of  them  work 
together,  not  being  included  under  the  terms  of  the  Factories  Regulation  Act.  First  and  Second 
Reports,  Grainger’s  Report.  Second  Report,  usually  cited  as  “Childrens*  Employment  Com- 
mission’s  Report.”  First  Report,  1841;  Second  Report,  1843. 

♦ ♦ Fifth  Annual  Report  of  the  Reg.  Gen.  of  Births,  Deaths  and  Marriages, 


71 


in  Lancashire  shows,  a district  inhabited  by  miners,  and  showing  a lower  sani 
tary  condition  than  that  of  the  agricultural  districts,  mining  being  by  no  means 
a healthful  occupation.  But  these  miners  live  in  the  country,  and  the  death 
rate  among  them  is  but  one  in  47.54,  or  nearly  two  and  a half  per  Cent,  better 
than  that  for  all  England.  All  these  Statements  are  based  upon  the  mortality 
tables  for  1843.  Still  higher  is  the  death  rate  in  the  Scotch  cities;  in  Edin- 
burgh, in  1838 — 1839,  one  in  29;  in  1831,  in  the  Old  Town  alone,  one  in  22. 
In  Glasgow,  according  to  Dr.  Cowen, ' the  average  has  been,  since  1830,  one  in 
30;  and  in  single  years,  one  in  22  to  24.  That  this  enormous  shortening  of  life 
falls  chiefly  upon  the  working  dass;  that  the  general  average  is  improved  by  the 
smaller  mortality  of  the  upper  and  middle  classes  is  attested  upon  all  sides.  One 
of  the  most  recent  depositions  is  that  of  a physician,  Dr.  P.  H.  Holland,  in 
Manchester,  who  investigated  Chorlton-on-Medlock,  a suburb  of  Manchester, 
under  official  commission.  He  divided  the  houses  and  streets  into  three  classes 
each,  and  ascertained  the  following  variations  in  the  death  rate: 


First  dass  of  Streets: 

Houses  I.  dass. 

Mortality 

one  in  51 

t ( 

(( 

1 1 

II 

“ II. 

1 1 

“ “ 45 

(( 

II 

II 

II 

**  III. 

IC 

II 

“ “36 
“ “ 55 

II  1133 

Second 

1 1 

II 

II 

“ I. 

IC 

C 1 

( ( 

1 1 

II 

II 

“ II. 

II 

II 

‘‘ 

II 

II 

II 

“ III. 

IC 

II 

“ “35 

Third 

II 

II 

1 1 

“ I. 

IC 

Wanting 

11 

II 

1 1 

“ II. 

IC 

Mortality 

“ “35 

1 < 

1 1 

II 

1 1 

“ III. 

IC 

1 i 

II  II  25 

It  is  clear  from  other  tables  given  by  Holland  that  the  mortality  in  the  sireets 
of  the  second  dass  is  18  per  cent.  greater,  and  in  the  streets  of  the  third  dass  68 
per  Cent,  greater  than  in  those  of  the  first  dass;  that  the  mortality  in  the  houses 
of  the  second  dass  is  31  per  cent.  greater,  and  in  the  third  dass  78  per  cent. 
greater  than  in  those  of  the  first  dass;  that  the  mortality  in  those  bad  streets 
which  were  improved,  decreased  25  per  cent.  He  closes  with  the  remark,  very 
frank  for  an  English  bourgeois-* 

“ When  we  find  the  rate  of  mortality  four  times  as  high  in  some  streets  as  in 
others,  and  twice  as  high  in  whole  classes  of  streets  as  in  other  classes,  and 
further  find  that  it  is  all  but  invariably  high  in  those  streets  which  are  in  bad 
condition,  and  almost  invariably  low  in  those  whose  condition  is  good,  we  cannot 
resist  the  conclusion  that  multitudes  of  our  fellow  creatures,  hmidreds  of  our  im~ 
mediale  neighbors  are  annually  destroyed  for  want  of  the  most  evident  precau- 
tions.” 

The  Report  on  the  Sanitary  Condition  of  the  Working  dass  contains  Informa- 
tion which  attests  the  same  fact.  In  Liverpool,  in  1840,  the  average  longevity 
of  the  upper  classes,  gentry,  professional  men,  etc.,  was  thirty-five  years,  that 
of  the  business  men  and  better  placed  handicraftsmen  twenty-two  years,  and 
that  of  the  operatives,  day  laborers,  and  serviceable  dass  in  general,  but  fifteen 
years.  The  Parliamentary  reports  contain  a mass  of  similar  facts. 

1.  Dr.  Cowen.  Vital  Statistics  of  Glasgow. 

2.  Report  of  Commission  of  Enquiry  into  the  State  of  Large  Towns  and  Populous  Districts 
First  Report,  1844.  Appendix. 


72 


The  death  rate  is  kept  so  high  chiefly  by  the  heavy  mortality  among  young 
children  in  the  working  dass.  The  tender  frame  of  a child  is  least  able  to  withstand 
the  unfavorable  influences  of  an  inferior  lot  in  life;  the  neglect  to  which  they  are 
often  subjected,  when  both  parents  work  or  one  is  dead,  avenges  itself  promptly, 
and  no  one  need  wonder  that  in  Manchester,  according  to  the  report  last  quoted, 
rnore  than  fifty-seven  per  Cent,  of  the  children  of  the  working  dass  perish  before 
the  fifth  year,  while  but  twenty  per  cent.  of  the.  children  of  the  higher  classes, 
and  not  quite  thirty-two  per  cent.  of  the  children  of  all  classes  in  the  country 
die  under  five  years  of  age.*  The  article  of  the  Artizan,  already  several  times 
referred  to,  furnishes  exacter  information  on  this  point,  by  comparing  the  city 
death  rate  in  single  diseases  of  children  with  the  country  death  rate,  so  de- 
monstrating  that,  in  general,  epidemics  in  Manchester  and  Liverpool  are  three 
times  more  fatal  than  in  country  districts;  that  affections  of  the  nervous  System 
are  quintupled,  and  stomach  troubles  trebled,  while  deaths  from  affections  of 
the  lungs  in  cities  are  to  those  in  the  country  as  2^  to  l.  Fatal  cases  of  small- 
pox,  measles,  scarlet  fever  and  whooping  cough  among  small  children  are  four 
times  more  frequent;  those  of  water  on  the  brain  are  trebled,  and  convulsions 
ten  times  more  frequent.  To  quote  another  acknowledged  authority  I append 
the  following  table:  Out  of  10,000  persons,  there  die ** 


In  Rutlandshlre,  a Under  5 years,  5-19,  20-39,  40-59,  60-69,  70-79,  80-89,  90-99,  100  x 
healthy  agricultu- 


ral  district 

Essex,  marshy  agri- 

2,865 

891 

1,275 

1,299 

1.189 

1,428 

938 

112 

3 

cultural  district.. 
Town  of  Carlile,  1779- 

3,159 

1,110 

1,526 

1,413 

963 

1,019 

630 

177 

3 

1787,  before  intro- 
ductionof  mills.  . 

4,408 

921 

1,006 

1,201 

940 

826 

633 

153 

22 

Town  of  Carlile,  af- 

ter  the  introduc- 
tlon  of  mills 

4,738 

930 

1,261 

1,134 

677 

727 

452 

80 

1 

Preston,  fact’  ry  town 

4,947 

1,136 

1,379 

1,114 

553 

632 

298 

38 

3 

Leeds,  factory  town 

5,286 

927 

1,228 

1,198 

593 

612 

225 

29 

2 

apart  from  the  divers  diseases 

which 

are 

the  necessary  consequence  of 

the 

present  neglect  and 

oppression 

of  the  poorer  < 

classes, 

there 

are 

other 

in- 

fluences  which  contribute  to  increase  the  mortality  among  small  children.  In 
many  families  the  wife,  like  the  husband,  has  to  work  away  from  home,  and  the 
consequence  is  the  total  neglect  of  the  children  who  are  either  locked  up  or  given 
out  to  be  taken  care  of.  It  is  therefore  not  to  be  wondered  at  if  hundreds  of 
them  perish  through  all  manner  of  accidents.  Nowhere  are  so  many  children  run 
over,  nowhere  are  so  many  killed  by  falling,  drowning  or  burning,  as  in  the  great 
cities  and  towns  of  England.  Dealhs  from  burns  and  scalds  are  especially  fre- 
quent, such  a case  occurring  nearly  every  week  during  the  winter  months  in  Man- 
chester, and  very  frequently  in  London,  though  little  mention  is  made  of  them  in 
the  papers.  I have  at  hand  a copy  of  the  Weekly  Despatch  of  December  I5th, 
1844,  according  to  which,  in  the  week  from  December  ist  to  December  yth  in- 


* Factories  Inquiry  Commission’s  Reports,  3d  Vol.  Report  of  Dr.  Hawkins  on  Lancashire,  in 
which  Dr.  Robertson  is  cited — the  “ Chief  Authority  for  Statistics  in  Manchester.” 

**  Quoted  by  Dr.  Wade  from  the  Report  of  the  Parliamentary  Factories’  Commission  of  183» 
in  his  History  of  the  Middle  and  Working  Classes.  London,  1835,  3d  Ed. 


73 


clusive,  six  such  cases  occurred.  These  unhappy  children,  perishing  in  thfs 
terrible  way,  are  victims  of  our  social  disorder,  and  of  ihe  property  holding 
classes  interested  in  maintaining  and  proionging  this  disorder.  Yet  one  is  left 
in  doubt  whether  even  this  terrible  torturing  death  is  not  a blessing  for  the  chil- 
dren in  rescuing  them  from  a long  life  of  toil  and  wretchedness,  rieh  in  suffer- 
ingand  poor  in  enjoyment.  So  far  has  it  gone  in  England;  and  the bourgeoisie 
reads  these  things  every  day  in  the  newspapers  and  takes  no  further  trouble  in  the 
matter.  But  it  cannot  complain  if,  after  the  ofHcial  and  non-official  testimony  here 
cited  which  must  be  known  to  it,  I broadly  accuse  it  of  social  murder.  Let  the  ruling 

Iclass  see  to  it  that  these  frightful  conditions  are  ameliorated,  or  let  it  surrender 
the  administration  of  the  common  interests  to  the  laboring  dass.  To  the  latter 
course  it  is  by  no  means  inclined;  for  the  former  task,  so  long  as  it  remains  the 
bourgeoisie  crippled  by  bourgeois  prejudice,  it  has  not  the  needed  power.  For 
if,  at  last,  after  hundreds  of  thousands  of  victims  have  perished,  it  manifesls 
some  little  anxiety  for  the  future,  passing  a “ Metropolitan  Buildings  Act,” 
under  which  the  most  unscrupulous  overcrowding  of  dwellings  is  to  be,  at  least 
in  some  slight  degree,  restricted;  if  it  points  with  pride  to  measures  which,  far 
from  attacking  the  root  of  the  evil,  do  not  by  any  means  meet  the  demands  of 
the  commonest  sanitary  police,  it  cannot  thus  vindicate  itself  from  the  accusa- 
tion.  The  English  bourgeoisie  has  but  one  choice,  either  to  continue  its  rule 
under  the  unanswerable  Charge  of  murder  and  in  spite  of  this  Charge,  or  to  ab- 
dicate  in  favor  of  the  laboring  dass.  Hitherto  it  has  chosen  the  former  course. 

Let  US  turn  from  the  physical  to  the  mental  state  of  the  w’orkers.  Since  the 
bourgeoisie  vouchsafes  them  only  so  much  of  life  as  is  absolutely  necessary,  we 
need  not  wonder  that  it  bestows  upon  them  only  so  much  education  as  lies  in 
the  interest  of  the  bourgeoisie;  and  that,  in  truth,  is  not  much.  The  means  of 
education  in  England  are  restricted  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  population. 
The  few  day  schools  at  the  command  of  the  working  dass  are  available  only  for 
the  smallest  minority,  and  are  bad  besides.  The  teachers,  worn  out  workers  and 
other  unsuitable  persons  who  only  turn  to  teaching  in  Order  to  live,  are  usually 
without  the  indispensable  elementary  knowledge,  without  the  moral  discipline 
so  needful  for  the  teacher,  and  relieved  of  all  public  supervision.  Here,  too, 
free  competition  rules,  and,  as  usual,  the  rieh  proflt  by  it,  and  the  poor,  for 
whom  competition  is  not  free,  who  have  not  the  knowledge  needed  to  enable 
them  to  form  a correct  judgment,  have  the  evil  consequences  to  bear.  Com- 
pulsory  school  attendance  does  not  exist.  In  the  mills  it  is,  as  we  shall  see, 
purely  nominal;  and  when  in  the  session  of  1843  the  Ministry  was  disposed  to 
make  this  nominal  compulsion  effective,  the  manufacturing  bourgeoisie  opposed 
the  measure  with  all  its  might,  though  the  working  dass  was  outspokenly  in 
favor  of  compulsory  school  attendance.  Moreover,  a mass  of  children  work  the 
whole  week  through  in  the  mills  or  at  home,  and  therefore  cannot  attend  school. 

/The  evening  schools,  supposed  to  be  attended  by  children  who  are  employed 
during  the  day,  are  almost  abandoned  or  attended  without  benefit.  It  is  asking 
too  much,  that  young  workers  who  have  been  using  themselves  up  twelve  hours 


74 


in  the  day,  should  go  to  school  from  eight  to  ten  at  night.  And  those  who  try 
it  usually  fall  asleep,  as  is  testified  by  hundreds  of  witnesses  in  the  Children's 
Employment  Commission’s  Report.  Sunday  schools  have  been  founded,  it  is 
true,  but  they,  loo,  are  most  scantily  supplied  with  teachers,  and  can  be  of  use 
to  those  only  who  have  already  learnt  something  in  the  day  schools.  The  in- 
terval  from  one  Sunday  to  the  next  is  too  long  for  an  ignorant  child  to  remember 
in  the  second  session  what  it  learned  in  the  first,  a week  before.  The  Children's 
Employment  Commission’s  Report  fiirnishes  a hundred  proofs,  and  the  Com- 
mission itself  most  emphatically  expresses  the  opinion  that  neither  the  week-day 
nor  the  Sunday  schools,  in  the  least  degree,  meet  the  needs  of  the  nation.  This 
report  gives  evidence  of  ignorance  in  the  working  dass  of  England,  such  as 
could  hardly  be  expected  in  Spain  or  Italy.  It  cannot  be  otherwise,  the 
bourgeoisie  has  little  to  hope  and  much  to  fear  from  the  education  of  the  work- 
ing dass,  the  Ministry,  in  its  whole  enormous  budget  of  ;^55, 000,000,  has  only 
the  single  trifling  item  of  ^40,000  for  public  education,  and  but  for  the 
fanaticism  of  the  religious  sects  which  does  at  least  as  much  harm  as  good,  the 
means  of  education  would  be  yet  more  scanty.  As  it  is,  the  State  Church  man- 
ages  its  national  schools  and  the  various  sects  their  sectarian  schools  for  the 
sole  purpose  of  keeping  the  children  of  the  brethren  of  the  faith  within  the 
bosom  of  the  church,  and  of  winning  away  a poor  childish  soul  here  and  there 
from  some  other  sect.  The  consequence  is  that  religion  and  precisely  the  most 
unprofitable  side  of  religion,  polemical  discussion,  is  made  the  principal  subject 
of  instruction,  and  the  memory  of  the  children  overburdened  with  incompre- 
hensible  dogmas  and  theological  distinctions;  that  sectarian  hatred  and  bigotry 
are  awakened  as  early  as  possible,  and  all  reasonable  mental  and  moral  training 
shamefully  neglected.  The  working  dass  has  repeatedly  demanded  of  Parlia- 
ment  a System  of  strictly  secular  public  education,  leaving  religion  to  the  minis- 
ters  of  the  sects;  but,  thus  far,  no  Ministry"  has  been  induced  to  grant  it.  The 
Minister  is  the  obedient  servant  of  the  bourgeoisie,  and  the  bourgeoisie  is 
divided  into  countless  sects;  but  each  would  gladly  grant  the  workers  the  other- 
wise dangerous  education  on  the  sole  condition  of  their  accepting,  as  an  antidote, 
the  dogmas  peculiar  to  the  especial  sect  in  question.  And  as  these  sects  are  still 
quarreling  among  themselves  for  supremacy,  the  workers  remain  for  the  present 
without  education.  It  is  true  that  the  manufacturers  boast  of  having  enabled 
the  majority  to  read,  but  the  quality  of  the  reading  is  appropriate  to  the  source 
of  the  instruction  as  the  Children’s  Employment  Commission  proves.  According 
to  this  report,  he  who  knows  his  letters  can  read  enough  to  satisfy  the  conscience 
of  the  manufacturers.  And  when  one  reflects  upon  the  confused  orthography  of 
the  English  language  which  makes  reading  one  of  the  arts,  learned  only  under 
long  instruction,  this  ignorance  is  readily  understood.  Very  few  working  people 
write  readily;  and  writing  orthographically  is  beyond  the  powers  even  of  many 
“educated”  persons.  The  Sunday  schools  of  the  State  Church,  of  the  Quäkers, 
and,  I think,  of  several  other  sects,  do  not  teach  writing,  “ because  it  is  too 
worldly  an  employment  for  Sunday.  ” The  quality  of  the  instruction  offered  the 


75 


workers  in  other  directions  may  be  jiidged  from  a specimen  or  two,  taken  from 
the  Children’s  Employment  Commission’s  Report,  which  unfortunately,  does 
not  embrace  mill-work  proper: 

“ In  Birmingham,"  says  Commissioner  Grainger,  “the  children  examined  by 
me  are,  as  a whole,  utterly  wanting  in  all  that  could  be  in  the  remotest  degree 
called  a useful  education.  Although  in  almost  all  the  schools  religious  Instruc- 
tion alone  is  furnished,  the  profoundest  ignorance  even  upon  that  subject  pre- 
vailed."  “ In  Wolverhampton,"  says  Commissioner  Home,  “ I found,  among 
others,  the  following  example:  A girl  of  eleven  years  had  attended  both  day  and 
Sunday  school,  “had  never  heard  of  another  world,  of  Heaven,  or  another life." 
A boy,  seventeen  years  old,  did  not  kno^v  that  twice  two  are  four,  nor  how  many 
farthings  in  two  pence  even  when  the  money  was  placed  in  his  hand.  Several 
boys  had  never  heard  of  London  nor  of  Willenhall,  though  the  latter  was  but  an 
hour’s  walk  from  their  homes  and  in  the  dosest  relations  with  Wolverhampton. 
Several  had  never  heard  the  name  of  the  Queen  nor  other  names,  such  as  Nelson, 
Wellington,  Bonaparte;  but  it  was  noteworthy  that  those  who  had  never  heard 
even  of  St.  Paul,  Moses  or  Solomon,  were  very  well  instructed  as  to  the  life,  deeds 
and  character  of  Dick  Turpin,  and  especially  of  Jack  Sheppard.  A youth  of  six- 
teen  did  not  know  how  many  twice  two  are,  nor  how  much  four  farthings  make. 
A youth  of  seventeen  asserted  that  four  farthings  are  four  half  pence;  a third, 
seventeen  years  old,  answered  several  very  simple  questions  with  the  brief  State- 
ment, that  he  “was  ne  jedge  o’  nothin’."^  These  children  who  are  crammed 
with  religious  doctrines  four  or  five  years  at  a Stretch,  know  as  little  at  the  end 
as  at  the  beginning.  One  child  “ went  to  Sunday  school  regularly  for  five  years; 
does  not  know  who  Jesus  Christ  is,  but  had  heard  the  name;  had  never  heard  of 
the  twelve  Apostles,  Samson,  Moses,  Aaron,  etc."^  Another  “ attended  Sunday 
school  regularly  six  years;  knows  who  Jesus  Christ  was;  he  died  on  the  Cross  to 
save  our  Saviour;  had  never  heard  of  St.  Peter  or  St.  Paul."^  A third  “at- 
tended different  Sunday  schools  seven  years;  can  read  only  the  thin  easy  books 
with  simple  words  of  one  syllable;  has  heard  of  the  Apostles,  but  does  not  know 
whether  St.  Peter  was  one  or  St.  John;  the  latter  must  have  been  St.  John  Wes- 
ley.'^  To  the  question  who  Christ  was,  Home  received  the  following  answers 
among  others:  “He  was  Adam,"  “He  was  an  Apostle,"  “He  was  the 
Saviour’s  Lord’s  Son,"  and  from  a youth  of  sixteen:  “ He  was  a king  of  London 
long  ago."  In  Sheffield,  Commissioner  Symonds  let  the  children  from  the 
Sunday  school  read  aloud;  they  could  not  teil  what  they  had  read,  or  what  sort 
of  people  the  Apostles  were,  of  whom  they  had  just  been  reading.  After  he 
had  asked  them  all  one  after  the  other  about  the  Apostles  without  securing  a 
single  correct  answer,  one  sly-looking  little  fellow,  with  great  glee,  called  out: 
“ I know,  mister;  they  were  the  lepers!"®  From  the  pottery  districts  of  Lan- 
cashire  the  reports  are  similar. 

This  is  what  the  bourgeoisie  and  the  State  are  doing  for  the  education  and 
improvement  of  the  working  dass.  Fortunately  the  conditions  under  which 
this  dass  lives  are  such  as  give  it  a sort  of  practical  training,  which  not 
only  replaces  school  cramming,  but  renders  harmless  the  confused  religious 
noüons  connected  with  it,  and  even  places  the  workers  in  the  vanguard  of  the 
national  movement  of  England.  Necessity  is  the  mother  of  invention,  and 

I Children’s  Employment  Commission’s  Report.  App.  Part  II,  Q.  i8,  No.  216,  217,  226,  233, 
etc.  Home. 

2.  Ibid  evidence,  p.  9,  39;  133, 

3.  Ibid,  p.  9,  36;  146. 

4.  Ibid,  p.  34;  158. 

5.  Symond’s  Rep.  App.  Part  I,  pp.  E,  22,  et  seq. 


76 


what  is  slill  more  important,  of  tbought  and  action.  The  English  workingman 
who  can  scarcely  read  and  still  less  write,  nevertheless,  knows  very  well  where 
his  own  interest  and  that  of  the  nation  lies.  He  knows,  too,  what  the  especial 
interest  of  the  bourgeoisie  is,  and  what  he  has  to  expect  of  that  bourgeoisie.  If 
he  cannot  write  he  can  speak,  and  speak  in  public;  if  he  has  no  Arithmetic,  he 
can,  nevertheless,  reckon  with  the  Political  Economists  enough  to  see  through 
a Corn  Law  repealing  bourgeois,  and  to  get  the  better  of  him  in  argument;  if 
celestial  matters  remain  very  mixed  for  bim  in  spite  of  all  the  effort  of  the 
preachers,  he  sees  all  the  more  clearly  into  terrestrial,  political  and  social  ques- 
tions.  ■ We  shall  have  occasion  to  refer  again  to  this  point;  and  pass  now  to 
the  moral  characteristics  of  our  workers. 

It  is  sufficiently  clear  that  the  Instruction  in  morals  can  have  no  better  effect 
than  the  religious  teaching  with  which  in  all  English  schools  it  is  mixed  up. 
The  simple  principles  which  for  plain  human  beings,  regulate  the  relations  of 
man  to  man,  brought  into  the  direst  confusion  by  our  social  state,  our  war  of 
each  against  all,  necessarily  remain  confused  and  foreign  to  the  workingman 
w’hen  mixed  with  incomprehensible  dogmas  and  preached  in  the  religious  form 
of  an  arbitrary  and  dogmatic  commandment.  The  schools  contribute,  according 
to  the  confession  of  all  the  authorities,  and  especially  of  the  Children’s  Employ- 
ment  Commission,  almost  nothing  to  the  morality  of  the  working  dass.  So 
short-sighted,  so  stupidly  narrow-minded  is  the  English  bourgeoisie  in  its 
egotism,  that  it  does  not  even  take  the  trouble  to  impress  upon  the  workers  the 
morality  of  the  day,  which  the  bourgeoisie  has  patched  together  in  its  own 
interest  for  its  own  protection!  Even  the  precautionary  measure  is  too  great  an 
effort  for  the  enfeebled  and  sluggish  bourgeoisie.  A time  must  come  when  it  will 
repent  its  neglect,  too  late.  But  it  has  no  right  to  complain  that  the  workers 
know  nothing  of  its  system'of  morals  and  do  not  act  in  accordance  with  it. 

Thus  are  the  workers  cast  out  and  ignored  by  the  dass  in  power,  morally  as 
well  as  physically  and  mentally.  The  only  provision  made  for  them  is  the  law, 
which  fastens  upon  them  when  they  become  obnoxious  to  the  bourgeoisie.  Like 
the  dullest  of  the  brutes,  they  are  treated  to  but  one  form  of  education,  the 
whip,  in  the  shape  of  force,  not  convincing  but  intimidating.  There  is  there- 
fore  no  cause  for  surprise  if  the  workers,  treated  as  brutes,  actually  become 
such;  or  if  they  can  maintain  their  consciousness  of  manhood  only  by  cherishing 
the  most  glowing  hatred,  the  most  unbroken  inward  rebellion  against  the 
bourgeoisie  in  power.  They  are  men  so  long  only  as  they  burn  with  wrath 
against  the  reigning  dass.  They  become  brutes  the  moment  they  bend  in 
patience  under  the  yoke,  and  merely  strive  to  make  life  endurable  while  abandon- 
ing  the  effort  to  break  the  yoke. 

This,  then,  is  all  that  the  bourgeoisie  has  done  for  the  education  of  the  Pro- 
letariat— and  when  we  take  into  consideration  all  the  circumstances  in  which 
this  dass  lives,  we  shall  not  think  the  worse  of  it  for  the  resentment  which  it 
cherishes  against  the  ruling  dass.  The  moral  training  which  is  not  given  to  the 
worker  in  school  is  not  supplied  by  the  other  conditions  of  his  life;  that  moral 


77 


training,  at  least,  which  alone  has  worth  in  the  eyes  of  the  bourgeoisie  His 
whole  Position  and  environment  involves  the  strongest  temptation  to  immorality. 
He  is  poor,  life  offers  him  no  charm,  almost  every  enjoyment  is  denied  him,  the 
penalties  of  the  law  have  no  further  terrors  for  him;  why  should  he  restrain  his 
desires,  why  leave  to  the  rieh  the  enjoyment  of  his  birthright,  why  not  seize  a 
part  of  it  for  himself  ? What  inducement  has  the  proletarian  not  to  steal?  It  is 
all  very  pretty  and  very  agreeable  to  the  ear  of  the  bourgeois  to  hear  the 
“sacredness  of  property  ” asserted;  but  for  him  who  has  none,  the  sacredness  of 
property  dies  out  of  itself.  Money  is  the  God  of  this  world;  the  bourgeois 
takes  the  proletarian 's  money  from  him  and  so  makes  a practical  atheist  of  him. 
No  wonder,  then,  if  the  proletarian  retains  his  atheism  and  no  longer  respects 
the  sacredness  and  power  of  the  earthly  God.  And  when  the  poverty  of  the 
pioletarian  is  intensified  to  the  point  of  actual  lack  of  the  barest  necessities  of 
life,  to  want  and  hunger,  the  temptation  to  the  disregard  of  all  social  Order  does 
but  gain  power.  This  the  bourgeoisie  for  the  most  part  reoognizes.  Symonds  * 
observes  that  poverty  exercises  the  same  ruinous  influence  upon  the  mind  which 
drunkenness  exercises  upon  the  body;  and  Dr.  Alison  explains  to  property-hold- 
ing  readers,  with  the  greatest  exaetness,  what  the  consequences  of  social 
oppression  must  be  for  the  working  class.^  Want  leaves  the  workingman  the 
choice  between  starving  slowly,  killing  himself  speedily,  or  taking  what  he  needs 
where  he  finds  it,  in  plain  English,  stealing.  And  there  is  no  cause  for  surprise 
that  most  of  them  prefer  stealing  to  starvation  and  suicide. 

True,  there  are,within  the  working  dass,  numbers  too  moral  to  steal  even 
when  reduced  to  the  utmost  extremity,  and  these  starve  or  com  mit  suicide.  For 
suicide,  formerly  the  enviable  privilege  of  the  upper  classes,  has  become  fashion- 
able  among  the  English  workers,  and  numbers  of  the  poor  kill  themselves  to 
avoid  the  misery  from  w’hich  they  see  no  other  means  of  escape. 

But  far  more  demoralizing  than  his  poverty  in  its  influence  upon  the  English 
workingman  is  the  insecurity  of  his  position.  the  necessity  of  living  upon  wages 
from  hand  to  mouth,  that  in  short  which  makes  a proletarian  of  him.  The 
smaller  peasants  in  Germany  are  usually  poor,  and  often  suffer  want,  but  they 
are  less  at  the  merey  of  accident,  they  have  at  least  something  secure.  The 
proletarian,  who  has  nothing  but  his  two  hands,  who  consumes  to-day  what  ho 
earned  yesterday,  who  is  subject  to  every  possible  chance,  and  has  not  the 
slightest  guarantee  for  being  able  to  earn  the  barest  necessities  of  life,  whom 
every  crisis,  every  whim  of  his  employer  may  deprive  of  bread,  this  proletarian 
is  placed  in  the  most  revolting,  inhuman  position  conceivable  for  a human  being. 
'[  he  slave  is  assured  of  a bare  livelihood  by  the  self-interest  of  his  master,  the 
serf  has  at  least  a scrap  of  land  on  which  to  live;  each  has  at  worst  a guarantee 
for  life  itself.  But  the  proletarian  must  depend  upon  himself  alone,  and  is  yet 
prevented  from  so  applying  his  abilities  as  to  be  able  to  rely  upon  tliem.  Every- 
thing  that  the  proletarian  can  do  to  improve  his  position  is  but  a drop  in  the 


1.  Arts  and  Artizans. 

2.  Principles  of  Population,  Vol.  II.,  p.  196,  197. 


78 


ocean  compared  with  the  floods  of  varying  chances  to  which  he  is  exposed,  over 
which  he  has  not  the  slightest  control.  He  is  the  passive  object  of  all  posslble 
combinations  of  circumstances,  and  must  count  himself  fortunate  when  he  has  saved 
his  life  even  for  a short  time,  and  his  character  and  way  of  living  are  naturally 
shaped  by  these  conditions.  Either  he  seeks  to  keep  his  head  above  water  in  this 
Whirlpool,  to  rescue  his  manhood,  and  this  he  can  do  solely  in  rebellion^  against 
the  dass  which  plunders  him  so  mercilessly  and  then  abandons  him  to  his  fate, 
which  strives  to  hold  him  in  this  position  so  demoralizing  to  a human  being;  or 
he  gives  up  the  struggle  against  his  fate  as  hopeless  and  strives  to  profit,  so  far  as 
he  can,  by  the  most  favorable  moment.  To  save  is  unavailing,  for  at  the 
utmost  he  cannot  save  more  than  suffices  to  sustain  life  for  a short  time,  while 
if  he  falls  out  of  work,  it  is  for  no  brief  period.  To  accumulate  lasting  property 
for  himself  is  impossible;  and  if  it  were  not,  he  would  only  cease  to  be  a work- 
ingman  and  another  would  take  his  place.  What  better  thing  can  he  do,  then, 
when  he  gets  high  wages  than  live  v/ell  upon  them  ? The  English  bourgeois  is 
violently  scandalized  at  the  extravagant  living  of  the  workers  when  wages  are 
high;  yet  it  is  not  only  very  natural  but  very  sensible  of  them  to  enjoy  life  when 
they  can,  instead  of  laying  up  treasures  which  are  of  no  lasting  use  to  them,  and 
which  in  the  end  moth  and  rust  (^.  e.  the  bourgeoisie)  get  possession  of.  Yet 
such  a life  is  demoralizing  beyond  all  others.  What  Carlyle  says  of  the  cotton 
Spinners  is  true  of  all  English  industrial  workers:^ 

“ Their  trade,  now  in  plethoric  prosperity,  anon  extenuated  into  inanition 
and  “ short  time,”  is  of  the  nature  of  gambling;  they  live  by  it  like  gamblers, 
now  in  luxurious  superfluity,  now  in  starvation.  Black,  mutinous  discontent 
devours  them;  simply  the  miserablest  feeling  that  can  inhabit  the  heart  of  man. 
English  commerce,  with  its  world-wide  convulsive  fluctuations,  with  its  im- 
measurable  Proteus  Steam  demon,  makes  all  paths  uncertain  for  them,  all  life  a 
bewilderment;  society,  steadfastness,  peaceable  continuance,  the  first  blessings 
of  man  are  not  theirs. — 1 his  world  is  for  them  no  home,  but  a dingy  prison 
house,  of  reckless  unthrift,  rebellion,  rancour,  indignation  against  themselves 
and  against  all  men.  Is  it  a green,  flowery  world,  with  azure  everlasting  sky 
stretched  over  it,  the  work  and  government  of  a God;  or  a murky,  simmering 
Tophet,  of  copperas  fumes,  cotton  fuz,  gin  riot,  wrath  and  toil,  created  by  a 
Demon,  governed  by  a Demon  ?” 

And  elsewhere.^ 

“ Injustice,  infidelity  to  truth  and  fact  and  Nature’s  Order,  being  properly  the 
one  evil  under  the  sun,  and  the  feeling  of  injustice  the  one  intoJerable  pain 
under  the  sun,  our  grand  question  as  to  the  condition  of  these  workingmen 
would  be:  Is  it  just?  And,  first  of  all,  what  belief  have  they  themselves  formed 
about  the  justice  of  it  ? The  words  they  promulgate  are  notable  by  way  of 
answer;  their  actions  are  still  more  notable.  Revolt,  sullen,  revengeful  humor 
of  revolt  against  the  upper  classes,  decreasing  respect  for  what  their  temporal 
Superiors  command,  decreasing  faith  for  what  their  spiritual  superiors  teach,  is 
more  and  more  the  universal  spirit  of  the  lower  classes.  Such  spirit  may  be 

1.  We  shall  see  later  how  the  rebellion  of  the  working  dass  against  the  bourgeoisie  in  England 
is  legalized  by  the  right  of  coalition. 

2.  Ckartism,  p.  34,  et.  seq. 

3.  Ckartism,  p.  40. 


79 


blamed,  may  be  vindicated;  but  all  men  must  recognize  it  as  extant  there,  all 
may  know  that  it  is  mournful,  that  unless  aitered  it  will  be  fatal. 

Carlyle  is  perfectly  right  as  to  the  facts  and  wrong  only  in  censuring  the  wild 
rage  of  the  workers  against  the  higher  classes.  This  rage,  this  passion,  is  rather 
the  proof  that  the  workers  feel  the  inhumanity  of  their  position,  that  they  refuse 
to  be  degraded  to  the  level  of  brutes,  and  that  they  will  one  day  free  themselves 
from  servitude  to  the  bourgeoisie.  This  may  be  seen  in  the  case  of  those  who 
do  not  share  this  wrath;  they  either  bow  hnmbly  before  the  fate  that  overtakes 
them,  live  a respectable  private  life  as  well  as  they  can,  do  not  concern  them- 
selves as  to  the  course  of  public  affairs,  help  the  bourgeoisie  to  forge  the  chains 
of  the  workers  yet  more  securely,  and  stand  upon  the  plane  of  intellectual  nullity 
that  prevailed  before  the  industrial  period  began;  or  they  are  tossed  about  by  fate, 
lose  their  moral  hold  upon  themselves  as  they  have  already  lost  their  economic 
hold,  live  along  from  day  to  day,  drink  and  fall  into  licentiousness;  and  in  both 
cases  they  are  brutes.  The  last  named  dass  contributes  chiefly  to  the  ‘ ‘ rapid 
increase  of  vice,”  at  which  the  bourgeoisie  is  so  horrified  after  itself  setting  in 
motion  the  causes  which  give  rise  to  it. 

Another  source  of  demoralization  among  the  workers  is  their  being  condemned 
to  work.  ' As  voluntary,  productive  activity  is  the  highest  enjoyment  known  to 
"u^so  is  compulsory  toil  the  most  cruel,  degrading  punishment.  Nothing  is 
more  terrible  than  being  constrained  to  do  some  one  thing  every  day  from  morn- 
ing  until  night  against  one’s  will.  And  the  more  a man  the  worker  feels  him- 
self,  the  more  hateful  must  his  work  be  to  him,  because  he  feels  the  constraint, 
the  aimlessness  of  it  for  himself.  Why  does  he  work?  For  love  of  work? 
From  a natural  impulse?  Not  at  all!  He  works  for  money,  for  a thing  which 
has  nothing  whatsoever  to  do  with  the  work  itself ; and  he  works  so  long,  more- 
over,  and  in  such  unbroken  monotony,  that  this  alone  must  make  his  work  a 
torture  in  the  first  weeks  if  he  has  the  least  human  feeling  left.  The  division  of 
labor  has  multiplied  the  brutalizing  influences  of  forced  work.  In  mosi 
branches  the  worker’s  activity  is  reduced  to  some  paltry,  purely  mechanical 
manipulation,  repeated  minute  after  minute,  unchanged  year  after  year.  ^ How 
much  human  feeling,  what  abilities  can  a man  retain  in  his  thirtieth  year,  who 
has  made  needle  points  or  filed  toothed  wheels  twelve  hours  every  day  from  his 
early  childhood,  living  all  the  time  under  the  conditions  forced  upon  the  English 
proletarian?  It  is  still  the  same  thing  since  the  introduction  of  steam.  The 
worker’s  activity  is  made  easy,  muscular  effort  is  saved,  but  the  work  itse-lf 
becomes  unmeaning  and  monotonous  to  the  last  degree.  It  offers  no  field  for 
mental  activity,  and  Claims  just  enough  of  his  attention  to  keep  him  from  think- 
ing  of  anything  eise.  And  a sentence  to  such  work,  to  work  which  takes  his 
whole  time  for  itself,  leaving  him  scarcely  time  to  eat  and  sleep,  none  for 
physical  exercise  in  the  open  air,  or  the  enjoyment  of  Nature,  much  less  for 

I.  Shall  I call  bourgeois  witnesses  to  bear  testimony  from  me  here,  too  ? I select  one  only, 
whom  every  one  may  read,  namely,  Adam  Smith.  Wealth  of  Nations^  (McCulloch’s  four 
volume  edition),  vol.  3,  book  5,  chap.  8,  p,  297. 


8o 


mental  activity,  how  can  such  a sentence  help  degrading  a human  being  to  the 
level  of  a brüte  ? Once  more  the  worker  must  choose,  must  either  surrender 
himself  to  his  fate,  become  a “ good”  workman,  heed  “ faithfully  ” the  interest 
of  the  bourgeoisie,  in  which  case  he  most  certainly  becomes  a brüte,  or  eise  he 
must  rebel,  fight  for  his  manhood,  to  the  last,  and  this  he  can  only  do  in  the 
light  against  the  bourgeoisie. 

And  when  all  these  conditions  have  engendered  vast  demoralization  among 
the  workers,  a new  influence  is  added  to  the  old,  to  spread  this  degradation  more 
widely  and  carry  it  to  the  extremest  point.  This  influence  is  the  centralization 
of  the  Population.  The  writers  of  the  English  bourgeoisie  are  crying  murder, 
at  the  demoralizing  tendency  of  the  great  cities  , like  perverted  Jeremiahs,  they 
sing  dirges,  not  over  the  destruction,  but  the  growth  of  the  cities.  Sheriff 
Alison  attributes  almost  everything,  and  Dr.  Vaughan,  author  of  “The  Age  of 
Great  Cities,”  still  more  to  this  influence.  And  this  is  natural,  for  the  propertied 
dass  has  too  direct  an  interest  in  the  other  conditions  which  tend  to  destroy  the 
worker  body  and  soul.  If  they  should  admit  that  “ poverty,  insecurity,  overwork, 
forced  work,  are  the  chief  ruinous  influences,”  they  would  have  to  draw  the  con- 
clusion,  “ then  let  us  give  the  poor  property,  guarantee  their  subsistence,  make 
laws  against  overwork,”  and  this  the  bourgeoisie  dare  not  formulate.  But  the 
great  cities  have  grown  up  so  spontaneously,  the  population  has  moved  into  them 
so  wholly  of  its  own  motion,  and  the  inference  that  manufacture  and  the  middle 
dass  which  profits  from  it  alone  have  created  the  cities  is  so  remote,  that  it  is  ex- 
tremely  convenient  for  the  ruling  dass  to  ascribe  all  the  evil  to  this  apparently 
unavoidable  source;  whereas  the  great  cities  really  only  secure  a more  rapid  and 
certain  development  for  evils  already  existing  in  the  germ.  Alison  is  humane 
enough  to  admit  this;  he  is  no  thoroughbred  Liberal  manufacturer,  but  only  a 
half  developed  Tory  bourgeois,  and  he  has,  therefore,  an  open  eye,  now  and 
then,  where  the  full-fledged  bourgeois  is  still  stone  blind.  Let  us  hear  himd 

“ It  is  in  the  great  cities  that  vice  has  spread  her  temptations,  and  pleasure 
her  seductions,  and  folly  her  allurements;  that  guilt  is  encouraged  by  the  hope 
of  impunity,  and  idleness  fostered  by  the  frequency  of  example.  It  is  to  these 
great  maits  of  human  corruption,  that  the  base  and  the  profligate  resort,  from 
the  simplicity  of  country  life;  it  is  here  that  they  find  victims  whereon  to  practice 
their  iniquity,  and  gains  to  reward  the  dangers  that  attend  them.  Virtue  is  here 
depressed  from  the  obscurity  in  which  it  is  involved.  Guilt  is  matured  from  the 
difiiculty  of  its  detection;  licentiousness  is  rewarded  by  the  immediate  enjoyment 
which  it  promises.  If  any  person  will  walk  through  St.  Giles’s,  the  crowded 
alleys  of  Dublin,  or  the  poorer  quarters  of  Glasgow  by  night,  he  will  meet  with 
ample  proof  of  these  observations;  he  will  no  longer  wonder  at  the  disorderly 
habits  and  profligate  enjoyments  of  the  lower  Orders;  his  astonishment  will  be, 
not  that  there  is  so  much,  but  that  there  is  so  little  crime  in  the  world.  The 
great  cause  of  human  corruption  in  these  crowded  situations  is  the  contagious 
nature  of  bad  example  and  the  extreme  difficulty  of  avoiding  the  seductions  of 
vice  when  they  are  brought  into  dose  and  daily  proximity  with  the  younger  part 
of  the  people.  Whatever  we  may  think  of  the  strength  of  virtue,  experience 
proves  that  the  higher  Orders  are  indebted  for  their  exemption  from  atrocious 


1.  Principles  of  Population,  vol.  II.,  p.  76,  et.  seq.  p.  82,  p.  135. 


8i 


crime  or  disorderly  babits  cbiefly  to  their  ff^rtunate  removal  from  tbe  scene  of 
temptation;  and  that  where  they  are  exposed  to  the  seductions  which  assail  their 
inferiors,  they  are  noways  behind  them  in  yielding  to  their  influence.  It  is  the 
peculiar  misfortune  of  the  poor  in  great  cities  that  they  cannot  fly  from  these 
irresistible  temptations,  but  that,  turn  where  they  will,  they  are  met  by  the 
alluring  forms  of  vice,  or  the  seductions  of  guilty  enjoyment.  It  is  the  experi- 
enced  impossibility  of  concealing  the  attractions  of  vice  from  the  younger  part 
of  the  poor  in  great  cities,  which  exposes  them  to  so  many  causes  of  demoraliza- 
tion.  ^ All  this  proceeds  not  from  any  unwonted  or  extraordinary  depravity  in 
the  character  of  these  victims  of  licentiousness,  but  from  the  almost  irresistible 
nature  of  the  temptations  to  which  the  poor  are  exposed.  The  rieh,  who  censurc 
their  conduct,  would  in  all  probability  yield  as  rapidly  as  they  have  done  to  the 
influence  of  similar  causes.  There  is  a certain  degree  of  misery,  a certain  prox- 
imity  to  sin,  which  virtue  is  rarely  able  to  withstand,  and  which  the  young,  in 
particular,  are  generally  unable  to  resist.  The  progress  of  vice  in  such  circum- 
stances  is  almost  as  certain  and  often  nearly  as  rapid  as  that  of  physical  con- 
tagion.” 

And  elsewhere: 

“ When  the  higher  Orders  for  their  own  profit  have  drawn  the  laboring  classes 
in  great  numbers  into  a small  space,  the  contagion  of  guilt  becomes  rapid  and 
unavoidable.  The  lower  Orders  situated  as  they  are  in  so  far  as  regards  moral  or 
religious  Instruction,  are  frequently  hardly  more  to  be  blamed  for  yielding  to  the 
temptations  which  surround  them  than  for  falling  victims  to  the  typhus  fever." 

Enough!  The  half  bourgeois  Alison  betrays  to  us,  however  narrow  his  man- 
ner  of  expressing  himself,  the  evil  effect  of  the  great  cities  upon  the  moral 
development  of  the  workers.  Another,  a bourgeois  pur  sang,  a man  after  the 
heart  of  the  Anti-Corn  Law  League,  Dr.  Andrew  Ure,  betrays  the  other  side. 
He  teils  US  that  life  in  great  cities  facilitates  cabals  among  the  workers  and  con- 
fers  power  on  the  Plebs.  If  here  the  workers  are  not  educated  {i,  e.  to  obedience 
to  the  bourgeoisie),  they  may  view  matters  one-sidedly,  from  the  standpoint  of 
a sinister  selfishness,  and  may  readily  permit  themselves  to  be  hoodwinked  by 
sly  demagogues;  nay,  they  might  even  be  capable  of  viewing  their  great est  bene- 
factors,  the  frugal  and  enterprising  capitalists,  with  a jealous  and  hostile  eye. 
Here  proper  training  alone  can  avail,  or  national  bankruptey  and  other  horrors 
must  follow,  since  a revolution  of  the  workers  could  hardly  fall  to  occur.  And 
our  bourgeois  is  perfectlv  justified  in  his  fears.  If  the  centralization  of  popula- 
tion  stimulates  and  developes  the  property  holding  dass,  it  forces  the  develop- 
ment of  the  workers  yet  more  rapidly.  The  workers  begin  to  feel  as  a dass,  as 
a w'hole;  they  begin  to  perceive  that,  though  feeble  as  individuals,  they  form  a 
power  United;  their  Separation  from  the  bourgeoisie,  the  development  of  views 
peculiar  to  the  workers  and  corresponding  to  their  position  in  life,  is  fostered, 
the  consciousness  of  oppression  awakens,  and  the  workers  attain  social  and 
political  importance.  The  great  cities  are  the  birthplaces  of  labor  movements; 
in  them  the  workers  first  began  to  reflect  upon  their  own  condition,  and  to 
struggle  against  it,  in  them  the  Opposition  between  Proletariat  and  bourgeoisie 

I.  Philosophy  of  Manufactures,  London,  1835,  p,  406,  et.  seq.  We  shall  have  occasion  to  refer 
farther  lo  this  reputable  work. 


82 


first  made  itself  manifest;  from  them  proceeded  the  Trades  Unions,  Chartism 
and  Socialism.  The  great  cities  have  transformed  the  disease  of  the  social  body, 
which  appears  in  chronic  form  in  the  country,  into  an  acute  one,  and  so  made 
manifest  its  real  nature  and  the  means  of  curing  it.  Without  the  great  cities 
and  their  forcing  influence  upon  the  populär  Intelligence,  the  working  dass 
would  be  far  less  advanced  than  it  is.  Moreover,  they  have  destroyed  the  last 
remnant  of  the  patriarchal  relation  between  workingmen  and  ernployers,  a result 
to  which  manufacture  on  a large  scale  has  contributed  by  multiplying  the 
employes  dependent  upon  a single  employer.  The  bourgeoisie  deplores  all  this, 
it  is  true,  and  has  good  reason  to  do  so;  for,  under  the  old  conditions,  the 
bourgeois  was  comparatively  secure  against  a revolt  on  the  part  of  his  hands. 
He  could  tyrannize  over  them  and  plunder  them  to  his  heart’s  content,  and  yet 
receive  obedience,  gratitude  and  assent  from  these  stupid  people  by  bestowing  a 
trifle  of  patronizing  friendliness  which  cost  him  iiothing,  and  perhaps  some 
paltry  present,  all  apparently  out  of  pure,  self-sacrificing,  uncalled-for  goodness 
of  heart,  but  really  not  one-tenth  part  of  his  duty.  As  an  individual  bourgeois, 
placed  under  conditions  which  he  had  not  himself  created,  he  might  do  his 
duty  at  least  in  part;  but,  as  a member  of  the  ruling  dass,  which,  by  the  mere 
fact  of  its  ruling,  is  responsible  for  the  condition  of  the  whole  nation,  he  did 
nothing  of  what  his  position  involved.  On  the  contrary,  he  plundered  the  whole 
nation  for  his  own  individual  advantage.  In  the  patriarchal  relation  that 
hypocritically  concealed  the  slavery  of  the  worker,  the  latter  must  have  remained 
an  intellectual  zero,  totally  ignorant  of  his  own  interest,  a mere  private  in- 
dividual. Only  when  estranged  from  his  employer,  when  convinced  that  the 
Sole  bond  between  employer  and  employe  is  the  bond  of  pecuniary  profit,  when 
the  sentimental  bond  between  them,  which  stood  not  the  slightest  test,  had 
wholly  fallen  away,  then  only  did  the  worker  begin  to  recognize  his  own 
interests  and  develop  independently;  then  only  did  he  cease  to  be  the  slave  of 
the  bourgeoisie  in  his  thoughts,  feelings  and  the  expression  of  his  will.  And  to 
this  end  manufacture  on  a grand  scale  and  in  great  cities  has  most  largely  con- 
tributed. 

Another  influence  of  great  moment  in  forming  the  character  of  the  English 
workers  is  the  Irish  immigration  already  referred  to.  On  the  one  hand 
it  has,  as  we  have  seen,  degraded  the  English  workers,  removed  them 
from  civilization,  and  aggravated  the  hardship  of  their  lot;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  has  thereby  deepened  the  chasm  between  workers  and  bourgeois,  and 
hastened  the  approaching  crisis.  For  the  course  of  the  social  disease  from  which 
England  is  suffering,  is  the  same  as  the  course  of  a physical  disease;  it  develops, 
according  to  certain  laws,  has  its  own  crises,  the  last  and  most  violent  of  which 
determines  the  fate  of  the  patient.  And  as  the  English  nation  cannot  succumb 
under  the  final  crisis,  but  most  go  forth  from  it,  born  again,  rejuvenated,  we 
can  but  rejoice  over  everything  which  accelerates  the  course  cf  the  disease.  And 
to  this  the  Irish  immigration  further  contributes  by  reason  of  the  passionate, 
mercurial  Irish  temperament,  which  it  imports  into  England  and  into  the 


83 


English  working  dass.  The  Irish  and  English  are  to  each  other  much  as  the 
French  and  the  Germans,  and  the  mixing  of  the  more  fadle  excitable,  fiery 
Irish  temperament  with  the  stable,  reasoning,  persevering  English  must,  in  the 
long  run,  be  productive  only  of  good  for  both.  The  rough  egotism  of  the 
English  bourgeoisie  would  have  kept  its  hold  upon  the  working  dass  much  more 
firmly  if  the  Irish  nature,  generous  to  a fault,  and  ruled  primarily  by  Sentiment 
had  not  intervened,  and  softened  the  cold,  rational  English  character  in  part  by 
a mixture  of  the  races,  and  in  part  by  the  ordinary  contact  of  life. 

In  view  of  all  this,  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  working  dass  has  gradually 
become  a race  wholly  apart  from  the  English  bourgeoisie.  The  bourgeoisie  has 
more  in  common  with  every  other  nation  of  the  earth  than  with  the  workers  in 
whose  midst  it  lives.  The  workers  speak  other  dialects,  have  other  thoughts  and 
ideals,  other  customs  and  moral  principles,  a different  religion  and  other  politics 
than  those  of  the  bourgeoisie.  Thus  they  are  two  radically  dissimilar  peoples, 
as  unlike  as  the  difference  of  race  can  make  them,  of  whom  we  on  the  Continent 
have  known  but  one,  the  bourgeoisie.  Yet  it  is  precisely  the  other,  the  people, 
the  Proletariat,  which  is  by  far  the  more  important  for  the  future  of  England. 

Of  the  public  character  of  the  English  workingman,  as  it  finds  expression  in 
associations  and  political  principles,  we  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  later;  let 
US  here  consider  the  results  of  the  influences  cited  above,  as  they  affect  the 
private  character  of  the  worker.  The  workman  is  far  more  humane  in  ordinary 
life  than  the  bourgeois.  I have  already  mentioned  the  fact  that  the  beggars  are 
accustomed  to  turn  almost  exclusively  to  the  workers,  and  that,  in  general,  more 
is  done  by  the  workers  than  by  the  bourgeoisie  for  the  maintenance  of  the  poor. 
This  fact,  which  any  one  may  prove  for  himself  any  day,  is  confirmed,  among 
others,  by  Dr.  Parkinson,  Canon  of  Manchester,  who  saysri 

“ The  poor  give  one  another  more  than  the  rieh  give  the  poor.  I can  con- 
firm  my  Statement  by  the  testimony  of  one  of  our  eldest,  mosc  skillful,  most 
Observant  and  humane  physicians,  Dr.  Bardsley,  who  has  often  declared  that  tlie 
total  sum  which  the  poor  yearly  bestow  upon  one  another,  surpasses  that  which 
the  rieh  contribute  in  the  same  time." 

In  other  ways,  too,  the  humanity  of  the  workers  is  constantly  manifesting 
itself  pleasantly.  They  have  experienced  hard  times  themselves,  and  can  there- 
fore  feel  for  those  in  trouble,  whence  they  are  more  approachable,  friendlier  and 
less  greedy  for  money,  though  they  need  it  far  more,  than  the  property  holding 
dass.  For  them  money  is  worth  only  what  it  will  buy,  whereas  for  the  bourgeois 
it  has  an  especial  inherent  value,  the  value  of  a God,  and  makes  the  bourgeois 
the  mean,  low  money-grabber  that  he  is.  The  workingman  who  knows  nothing 
of  this  feeling  of  reverence  for  money  is  therefore  less  grasping  than  the 
bourgeois,  whose  whole  activity  is  for  the  purpose  of  gain,  who  sees  in  the 
accumulations  of  his  money-bags  the  end  and  aim  of  life.  Hence  the  workman 
is  much  less  prejudiced,  has  a clearer  eye  for  facts  as  they  are  than  the  bourgeois, 

I.  On  the  present  Condition  oT  the  Laboring  Poor  in  Manchester,  etc.,  by  the  Rev.  Rd.  Parkin- 
son, Canon  of  Manchester,  3d  Ed.,  London  and  Manches'.er,  1841,  Pamphlet. 


84 


and  does  not  look  at  everything  through  the  spectacles  of  personal  selfishness- 
His  faultv  education  saves  him  from  religious  prepossessions,  he  does  not  un- 
derstand  religious  questions,  does  not  trouble  himself  about  them,  knows  noth- 
ing of  the  fanaticism  that  holds  the  bourgeoisie  bound;  and  if  he  chances  to  have 
any  religion,  he  has  it  only  in  name,  not  even  in  theory.  Practically  he  lives 
for  this  World,  and  strives  to  make  himself  at  home  in  it.  All  the  writers  of  the 
bourgeoisie  are  unanimous  on  this  point,  that  the  workers  are  not  religious,  and 
do  not  attend  church.  From  the  general  Statement  are  to  be  excepted  the 
Irish,  a few  elderly  people,  and  the  half  bourgeois,  the  overlookers,  foremen, 
arid  the  like.  But  among  the  masses  there  prevails  almost  universJly  a total 
indifference  to  religion,  or  at  the  utmost,  some  trifling  Deism  too  undeveloped 
to  amount  to  more  than  mere  words,  or  a vague  dread  of  the  words  infidel, 
atheist,  etc.  The  clergy  of  all  sects  is  in  very  bad  odor  with  the  workingmen, 
though  the  loss  of  its  influence  is  recent.  At  present,  however,  the  mere  cry: 
“ He’s  a parson!”  is  often  enough  to  drive  one  of  the  clergy  from  the  platform 
of  a public  meeting.  And  like  the  rest  of  the  conditions  under  which  he  lives, 
his  want  of  religious  and  other  culture,  contributes  to  keep  the  workingman  more 
unconstrained,  freer  from  inherited  stable  tenets  and  cut-and-dried  opinions, 
than  the  bourgeois  who  is  saturated  with  the  dass  prejudices  poured  into  him 
from  his  earliest  youth.  There  is  nothing  to  be  done  with  the  bourgeois;  he  is 
essentially  conservative  in  however  liberal  a guise,  his  interest  is  bound  up  with 
that  of  the  property  holding  dass,  he  is  dead  to  all  active  movement;  he  is  losing 
his  Position  in  the  forefront  of  England’s  historical  development.  The  workers 
are  taking  his  place,  in  rightful  claim  first,  then  in  fact. 

All  this,  together  with  the  corresponding  public  action  of  the  workers,  with 
which  we  shall  deal  later,  forms  the  favorable  side  of  the  character  of  this  dass; 
the  unfavorable  one  may  be  quite  as  briefly  summed  up,  and  follows  quite  as 
naturally  out  of  the  given  causes.  Drunkenness,  sexual  irregularities,  brutality 
and  disregard  for  the  rights  of  property  are  the  chief  points  with  which  the 
bourgeois  charges  them.  That  they  drink  heavily  is  to  be  expected.  Sheriff 
Alison  asserts  that  in  Glasgow  some  thirty  thousand  workingmen  get  drunk 
every  Saturday  night,  and  the  estimate  is  certainly  not  exaggerated;  and  that  in 
that  city  in  1830,  one  house  in  twelve,  and  in  1840,  one  house  in  ten,  was  a 
public  house;  that  in  Scotland,  in  1823,  excise  was  paid  upon  2,300,000  gallons; 
in  1837,  upon  6,620,000  gallons;  in  England,  in  1823,  upon  1,976,000  gallons, 
and  in  1837,  upon  7,875,000  gallons  of  spirits.  The  beer  act  of  1830,  which 
facilitated  the  opening  of  alehouses,  (jerry  shops),  whose  keepers  are  licensed  to 
seil  beer  to  be  drunk  on  the  premises,  facilitated  the  spread  of  intemperance  by 
bringing  a beerhouse  so  to  say  to  everybody’s  door.  In  nearly  every  Street 
there  are  several  such  beerhouses,  and  among  two  or  three  neighboring  houses 
in  the  country  one  is  sure  to  be  a jerry  shop.  Besides  these,  there  are 
hush  shops  in  multitudes,  i.  <?.,  secret  drinking  places  which  are  not  licensed, 
and  quite  as  many  secret  distilleries  which  produce  great  quantities  of  spirits  in 
retired  Spots,  rarely  visited  by  the  police,  in  the  great  cities.  Gaskell  estimates 


85 


these  secret  distilleries  in  Manchester  alone  at  more  tlian  a hundred,  and  thcir 
product  at  156,000  gallons  at  the  least.  In  Manchester  there  are,  besides,  more 
than  a thousand  public  houses  selling  all  sorts  of  alcoholic  drinks,  or  quite  as 
many  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  inhabitants  as  in  Glasgow.  In  all  other 
great  towns,  the  state  of  things  is  the  same.  And  when  one  considers,  apart 
from  the  usual  consequences  of  intemperance,  that  men  and  women,  even 
children,  often  mothers  with  babies  in  the  arms,  come  into  contact  in  these 
places  with  the  most  degraded  victims  of  the  bourgeois  regime,  with  thieves, 
swindlers  and  prostitutes;  when  one  reflects  that  many  a mother  gives  the  baby 
011  her  arm  gin  to  drink,  the  demoralizing  effects  of  frequenting  such  places 
cannot  be  denied. 

On  Saturday  evenings,  especially  when  wages  are  paid  and  work  stops  some- 
what  earlier  than  usual,  when  the  whole  working  dass  pours  from  its  own  poor 
quarters  into  the  main  thoroughfares,  intemperance  may  be  seen  in  all  its 
brutality.  I have  rarely  come  out  of  Manchester  on  such  an  evening  without 
rreeting  numbers  of  people  staggering  and  seeing  others  lying  in  the  gutter. 
On  Sunday  evening  the  same  scene  is  usually  repeated,  only  less  noisily.  And 
when  their  money  is  spent,  the  drunkards  go  to  the  nearest  pawnshop,  of  which 
there  are  plenty  in  every  city — over  sixty  in  Manchester,  and  ten  or  twelve  in  a 
single  Street  of  Salford,  Chapel  Street — and  pawn  whatever  they  possess. 
Furniture,  Sunday  clothes  where  such  exist,  kitchen  Utensils  in  masses  are 
fetched  from  the  pawnbrokers  on  Saturday  night  only  to  wander  back,  almost 
without  fail,  before  the  next  Wednesday,  4jntil  at  last  some  accident  makes  the 
final  redemption  impossible,  and  one  article  after  another  falls  into  the  clutches 
of  the  usurer,  or  until  he  refuses  to  give  a single  farthing  more  upon  the  battered, 
used-up  pledge.  When  one  has  seen  the  extent  of  intemperance  among  the 
workers  in  England,  one  readily  believes  Lord  Ashley’s  Statement  that  this  dass 
annually  expends  something  like  twenty-five  million  pounds  sterling  upon  in- 
toxicating  liquor;  and  the  deterioration  in  external  conditions,  the  frightful  shat- 
tering  of  mental  and  physical  health,  the  ruin  of  all  domestic  relations  which 
follow  may  readily  be  imagined.  True.  the  temperance  societies  have  done 
much,  but  what  are  a few  thousand  teetotallers  among  the  millions  of  workers  ? 
When  Father  Matthew,  the  Irish  apostle  of  temperance,  passes  through  the 
English  cities,  from  thirty  to  sixty  thousand  workers  take  the  pledge;  but  most 
of  them  break  it  again  within  a month.  If  one  counts  up  the  immense  numbers 
who  have  taken  the  pledge  in  the  last  ihree  or  four  years  in  Manchester,  the 
total  is  greater  than  the  whole  population  of  the  town — and  still  it  is  by  no 
mcans  evident  that  intemperance  is  diminishing. 

Next  to  intemperance  in  the  enjoyment  of  intoxicating  liquors,  one  of  the 
Principal  faults  of  English  workingmen  is  sexual  licence.  But  this,  too,  follows 
with  relentless  logic,  with  inevitable  necessity  out  of  the  position  of  a dass  left 
to  itself,  with  no  means  of  making  fitting  use  of  its  freedom.  The  bourgeoisie 
has  left  the  working  dass  only  these  two  pleasures,  while  imposing  upon  it  a 
multitude  of  labors  and  hardships,  and  the  consequence  is  that  the  workingmen, 


86 


in  Order  to  get  something  from  life,  concentrate  their  whole  energy  upon  these 
two  enjoyments,  carry  them  to  excess,  surrender  to  them  in  the  most  unbridled 
manner.  When  people  are  placed  under  conditions  which  appeal  to  the  brüte 
only,  what  remains  to  them  but  lo  rebel  or  to  succumb  to  utter  bestiality?  And 
when  moreover  the  bourgeoisie  does  its  full  share  in  maintaining  Prostitution — 
and  how  many  of  the  40,000  prostitutes  who  fill  the  streets  of  London  every 
evening  live  upon  the  virtuous  bourgeoisie?  How  many  of  them  owe  it  to  the 
seduction  of  a bourgeois,  that  they  must  offer  their  bodies  to  the  passers-by  in 
Order  to  live? — surely  it  has  least  of  all  a right  to  reproach  the  workers  with 
their  sexual  brutality. 

Lhe  failings  of  the  workers  in  general  may  be  traced  to  an  unbridled  thirst  for 
pleasure,  to  want  of  providence  and  of  flexibility  in  fitting  into  the  social  order, 
to  the  general  inability  to  sacrifice  the  pleasure  of  the  moment  to  a remoter 
advantage.  But  is  that  to  be  wondered  at  ? When  a dass  can  purchase  few 
and  only  the  most  sensual  pleasures  by  its  wearying  toil,  must  it  not  give  itself 
over  blindly  and  madly  to  those  pleasures  ? A dass  about  whose  education  no 
one  troubles  himself,  which  is  a playball  to  a thousand  chances,  knows  no 
Security  in  life — what  incentives  has  such  a dass  to  providence,  to  “respect- 
ability,”  to  sacrifice  the  pleasure  of  the  moment  for  a remoter  enjoyment  most 
uncertain  precisely  by  reason  of  the  perpetually  varying,  shifting  conditions 
under  which  the  Proletariat  lives  ? A dass  which  bears  all  the  disadvantages  of 
the  social  Order  without  enjoying  its  advantages,  one  to  which  the  social  System 
appears  in  purely  hostile  aspects — who  can  demand  that  such  a dass  respect  this 
social  Order?  Verily  that'is  asking  much!  But  the  workingman  cannot  escape 
the  present  arrangement  of  society  so  long  as  it  exists,  and  when  the  individual 
worker  resists  it,  the  greatest  injury  falls  upon  himself.  Thus  the  social  Order 
makes  family  life  almost  impossible  for  the  worker.  In  a comfortless,  filthy 
house,  hardly  good  enough  for  mere  nightly  shelter,  ill-furnished,  often  neither 
rain-tight  nor  warmed,  a foul  atmosphere  filling  rooms  overcrowded  with  human 
beings,  no  domestic  comfort  is  possible.  The  husband  works  the  whole  day 
through,  perhaps  the  wife  also  and  the  elder  children,  all  in  different  places; 
they  meet  night  and  morning  only,  all  under  perpetual  temptation  to  drink; 
what  family  life  is  possible  under  such  conditions  ? Yet  the  workingman  cannot 
escape  from  the  family,  must  live  in  the  family,  and  the  consequence  is  a per- 
petual succession  of  family  troubles,  domestic  quarrels  most  demoralizing  for 
parents  and  children  alike.  Neglect  of  all  domestic  duties,  neglect  of  the 
children,  especially,  is  only  too  common  among  the  English  working  people,  and 
only  too  vigorously  fostered  by  the  existing  institutions  of  society.  And  children 
growing  up  in  this  savage  way,  amidst  these  demoralizing  influences,  are 
expected  to  turn  out  goody  goody  and  moral  in  the  end  ? Verily  the  require- 
ments  are  naive,  which  the  self-satisfied  bourgeois  makes  upon  the  workingman! 

The  contempt  for  the  existing  social  Order  is  most  conspicuous  in  its  extreme 
form,  that  of  offences  against  the  law.  If  the  influences  demoralizing  to  the 
workingman  act  more  powerfully,  more  concentratedly  than  usual,  he  becomes- 


87 


an  offender  as  certainly  as  water  abandons  the  fluid  for  the  vaporous  state  at  8o 
degrees,  R^aumur.  Under  the  brutal  and  brutalizing  treatment  of  the  bour- 
geoisie,  the  workingman  becomes  precisely  as  much  a thing  without  volition  as 
water,  and  is  subject  to  the  laws  of  nature  with  precisely  the  same  necessity;  at 
a certain  point  all  freedom  ceases.  Hence  with  the  extension  of  the  Proletariat, 
crime  has  increased  in  England,  and  the  British  natiön  has  become  the  most 
criminal  in  the  world.  From  the  annual  criminal  tables  of  the  Home  Secretary, 
it  is  evident,  that  the  increase  of  crime  in  England  has  proceeded  with  incom- 
prehensible  rapidity.  The  numbers  of  arrests  for  criminal  offences  reached  in 
theyears;  1805,4,605;  1810,  5.146;  1815,  7,898;  1820,  13,710;  1825,  14,437; 
1830,  18,107;  1835,  20,731;  1840,  27,187;  1841,  27,760;  1842,  31,309  in  Eng- 
land and  Wales  alone.  That  is  to  say,  they  increased  sevenfold  in  thirty-seven 
years.  Of  these  arrests  in  1842,  4,497  were  made  in  Lancashire  alone,  or  more 
than  14  per  cent.  of  the  whole;  and  4,094  in  Middlesex,  including  London,  or 
more  than  13  per  cent.  So  that  two  districts  which  include  great  cities  with 
large  proletarian  populatior^s,  produced  one-fourth  of  the  total  amount  of  crime, 
though  their  population  is  far  from  forming  one-fourth  of  the  whole.  Moreover, 
the  criminal  tables  prove  directly  that  nearly  all  crime  arises  within  the  Prole- 
tariat; for,  in  1842,  taking  the  average,  out  of  100  criminals  32.35  could  neither 
read  nor  write,  58.32  read  and  wrote  imperfectly,  6.77  could  read  and  write 
well;  0.22  had  enjoyed  a higher  education,  while  the  degree  of  education  of  2.34 
could  not  be  ascertained.  In  Scotland  crime  has  increased  yet  more  rapidly. 
There  were  but  89  arrests  for  criminal  offences  in  1819,  and  as  early  as  1837  the 
number  had  risen  to  3,176,  and  in  1842  to  4,189.  In  Lanarkshire,  where  Sheriff 
Alison  himself  made  out  the  official  report,  population  has  doubled  once  in 
thirty  years,  and  crime  once  in  five  and  a half,  or  six  times  more  rapidly  than 
the  population.  The  offences,  as  in  all  civilized  countries,  are,  in  the  great 
majority  of  cases,  against  property,  and  have  therefore  arisen  from  want  in  some 
form;  for  what  a man  has,  he  does  not  steal.  The  proportion  of  offences  against 
property  to  the  population,  which  in  the  Netherlands  is  as  i:  7,140,  and  in 
France,  as  i:  1,804,  was  in  England  when  Gaskell  wrote,  as  i:  799.  The  pro- 
portion of  offences  against  persons  to  the  population  is,  in  the  Netherlands,  i: 
28.904;  in  France,  i:  17,573;  in  England,  i:  23,395;  that  of  crimes  in  general 
to  the  population  in  the  agricultural  districts,  as  i:  1,043;  manufacturing 

districts  as  i:  840.* *  In  the  whole  of  England  to-day  the  proportion  is  i:  660;** 
though  it  is  scarcely  ten  years  since  Gaskell’s  book  appeared! 

These  facts  are  certainly  more  than  sufficient  to  bring  any  one,  even  a 
bourgeois,  to  pause  and  reflect  upon  the  consequences  of  such  a state  of  things. 
If  demoralization  and  crime  multiply  twenty  years  longer  in  this  proportion, 
(and  if  English  manufacture  in  these  twenty  years  should  be  less  prosperous 
than  heretofore,  the  progressive  multiplication  of  crime  can  only  continue  the 

* Manufacturing  Population  of  England,  chap.  10. 

* * The  total  of  population,  about  fifteen  millions,  divided  by  the  number  of  convicted  criminals^ 

(22,733-) 


88 


more  rapidly,)  what  will  the  result  be  ? Society  is  already  in  a state  of  visible 
dissülution;  it  is  impossible  to  pick  up  a newspaper  without  seeing  the  most 
striking  evidence  of  the  giving  way  of  all  social  ties.  I look  at  random  into  a 
heap  of  English  Journals  lying  before  me;  tliere  is  the  Manchester  Guardian  for 
October  30,  1844,  which  reports  for  three  days.  It  no  longer  takes  the  trouble 
to  give  exact  details  as  to  Manchester,  and  merely  relates  the  most  interesting 
cases:  that  the  workers  in  a mill  have  struck  for  higher  wages  without  giving 
notice  and  been  condemned  by  a Justice  of  the  Peace  to  resume  work;  that  in 
Salford  a couple  of  boys  had  been  caught  stealing,  and  a bankrupt  tradesman 
tried  to  cheat  his  credilors.  From  the  neighboring  towns  the  reports  are  more 
detailed:  In  Ashton,  two  thefts,  one  burglary,  one  suicide;  in  Bury,  one  theft; 
in  Bolton,  two  thefts,  one  revenue  fraud;  in  Leigh,  one  theft;  in  Oldham,  one 
strike  for  wages,  one  theft,  one  fight  between  Irish  w’omen,  one  non-Union 
hatter  assaulted  by  Union  men,  one  mother  beaten  by  her  son,  one  attack  upon 
the  police,  one  robbery  of  a church;  in  Stockport,  discontent  of  workingmen 
with  wages,  one  theft,  one  fraud,  one  fight,  one  wife  beaten  by  her  husband;  in 
Warrington,  one  theft,  one  fight;  in  Wigan,  one  theft,  and  one  robbery  of  a 
church.  The  reports  of  the  London  papers  are  much  worse;  frauds,  thefts, 
assaults,  family  quarrels  crowd  one  another.  A Times  of  September  12,  1844, 
falls  into  my  hand,  which  gives  a report  of  a single  day,  including  a theft,  an 
attack  upon  the  police,  a sentence  upon  a father  requiring  him  to  support  his 
illegitimate  son,  the  abandonment  of  a child  by  its  parents,  and  the  poisoningof 
a man  by  his  wife.  Similar  reports  are  to  be  found  in  all  the  English  papers. 
In  this  country  social  war  is  under  full  headway,  every  one  Stands  for  himself 
and  fights  for  himself  against  all  comers,  and  whether  or  not  he  shall  injure  all 
the  others  who  are  his  declared  foes,  depends  upon  a cynical  calculation  as  to 
w^hat  is  most  advantageous  for  himself.  It  no  longer  occurs  to  any  one  to  come 
to  a peaceful  understanding  with  his  fellow  man;  all  differences  are  settled  by 
threats,  violence,  or  in  a law  court.  PliT^ort,  every  one  sees  in  his  neighbor  an 
enemy  to  be  got  out  of  the  way  or,  at  least,  a tool  to  be  used  for  his  owm 
advantage.  And  this  war  grows  from  year  to  year  as  the  criminal  tables  show, 
more  violent,  passionate,  irreconcilable.  The  enemies  are  dividing  gradually 
into  two  great  camps,  the  bourgeoisie  on  the  one  hand,  the  workers  on  the  other. 
This  war  of  each  against  all,  of  the  bourgeoisie  against  the  Proletariat,  need 
cause  US  no  surprise,  for  it  is  only  the  logical  sequel  of  the  principle  involved  in 
free  competition.  But  it  may  very  well  surprise  us  that  the  bourgeoisie  remains 
so  quiet  and  composed  in  the  face  of  the  rapidly  gathering  storm  clouds,  that  it 
can  read  all  these  things  daily  in  the  papers  without,  we  will  not  say  Indignation 
at  such  a social  condition,  but  fear  of  its  consequences,  of  a universal  outburst 
of  that  which  manifests  itself  symptomatically  from  day  to  day  in  the  form  of 
crime.  But  then  it  is  the  bourgeoisie,  and  from  its  standpoint  cannot  even  see 
the  facts,  much  less  perceive  their  consequences.  One  thing  only  is  astounding, 
that  dass  prejudice  and  preconceived  opinions  can  hold  a whole  dass  of  human 
beings  in  such  perfect,  I might  almost  say  such  mad  blindness.  Meanwhile  the 


89 


development  of  the  nation  goes  its  way  whether  the  bourgeoisie  lias  eyes  for  it 
or  not,  and  will  surprise  the  property-holdiiig  dass  one  day  with  things  not 
dreamed  of  in  its  philosophy. 


SINGLE  BRANCHES  OF  INDUSTRY. 
FACTORY  RANDS. 


In  dealing  now  with  the  more  important  branches  of  the  English  manufactur- 
ing  Proletariat,  we  shall  begin,  according  to  the  principle  already  laid  down, 
with  the  factory  workers,  i.  e.,  those  who  are  comprised  under  the  Factory  Act. 
This  law  regulates  the  length  of  the  w'orking-day  in  mills  in  which  wool,  silk, 
cotton  andTIäx  are  spun  or  woven  by  means  of  water  6r  steam-power,  and  em- 
braces,  thereTore,  the  more  important  branches  of  English  manufacture.  The 
dass  employed  by  them  is  the  most  intelligent  and  energetic  of  all  the 
English  workers,  and,  therefore,  the  most  restless  and  most  hated  by  the 
bourgeoisie.  It  Stands  as  a w’hole,  and  the  cotton-workers  pre-eminently  stand, 
at  the  head  of  the  labor  movement,  as  their  masters  the  manufacturers,  especially 
those  of  Lancashire,  take  the  lead  of  the  bourgeois  agitation. 

We  have  already  seen  in  the  introduction  how  the  population  employed  in 
working  up  the  textile  materials  were  first  torn  from  their  former  way  of  life.  It 
is  therefore  not  surprising  that  the  progress  of  mechanical  invention  in  later 
years,  also  affected  precisely  these  workers  most  deeply  and  permanently.  The 
history  of  cotton  manufacture  as  related  by  Ure,*  Baines,f  and  others,  is  the 
Story  of  improvements  in  every  direction,most  of  which  have  become  domesticated 
in  the  other  branches  of  industry  as  welk  Hand-work  is  superseded  by  machine- 
work  almost  universally,  nearly  all  manipulations  are  conducted  by  the  aid  of 
steam  or  water,  and  every  year  is  bringing  fnrther  improvements. 

In  a well-ordered  state  of  society,  such  improvements  could  only  be  a source 
of  rejoicing;  in  a war  of  all  against  all,  individuals  seize  the  benefit  for  them- 
selves,  and  so  deprive  the  majority  of  the  means  of  subsistence.  Every  im- 
provement  in  machinery  throws  workers  out  of  employment,  and  the  greater  the 
advance,  the  more  numerous  the  unemployed;  each  great  improvement  produces 
therefore  upon  a number  of  workers  the  effect  of  a commercial  crisis,  creates 
want,  wretchedness  and  crime.  Take  a few  examples.  The  very  first  inven- 
tion, the  jenny,  worked  by  one  man,  produced  at  least  sixfold  what  the  spinning- 
wheel  had  yielded  in  the  same  time;  thus  every  new  jenny  threw  five  Spinners 
out  of  employment.  The  throstle,  which,  in  turn,  produced  much  more  than 
the  jenny,  and  like  it,  was  worked  by  one  man,  threw  still  more  people  out  of 

♦ The  Cotton  Manufacture  of  Great  Britain,  by  Dr.  A.  Ure,  1836. 

t History  of  the  Cotton  Manufacture  of  Great  Britain,  by  E.  Baines,  Esq. 


go 


employment.  The  mule,  which  required  yet  fewer  hands  in  proportion  to  the 
product,  had  the  same  effect,  and  every  improvement  in  the  mule,  every  multi- 
plication  of  its  spindles,  diminished  still  further  the  number  of  workers  employed. 
But  this  increase  of  the  number  of  spindles  in  the  mule  is  so  great  that  whole 
armies  of  workers  have  been  tnrown  out  of  employment  by  it.  For,  whereas  one 
Spinner,  with  a couple  of  children  for  piecers,  formerly  setsix  hundred  spindles  in 
motion,  he  could  now  manage  fourteen  hundred  to  two  thousand  spindles  upon 
two  mules,  so  that  two  adult  Spinners  and  a part  of  the  piecers  whom  they  em- 
ployed were  thrown  out.  And  since  sell-acting  mules  have  been  introduced 
into  a very  large  number  of  spinning  mills,  the  Spinners  work  is  wholly  per- 
formed  by  the  machine.  There  lies  before  me  a book  from  the  pen  of  Janies 
Leach,*  one  of  the  recognized  leaders  of  the  Chartists  in  Manchester.  The 
author  has  worked  for  years  in  various  branches  of  industry,  in  mills  and  coal 
mines,  and  is  known  to  me  personally  as  an  honest,  trustworthy  and  capable 
man.  In  consequence  of  his  political  position,  he  had  at  command  extensive 
detailed  information  as  to  the  different  factories,  collected  by  the  workers  them- 
selves,  and  he  publishes  tables  from  which  it  is  clear  that  in  1841,  in  35  factories, 
1,060  fewer  mule  Spinners  were  employed  than  in  1829,  though  the  number  of 
spindles  in  these  35  factories  had  increased  by  99,239,  He  cites  five  factories 
in  which  no  Spinners  whatever  are  employed,  self-actors  only  being  used. 
While  the  number  of  spindles  increased  by  10  per  cent.,  the  number  of  Spinners 
diminished  more  than  60  per  cent.  And  Leach  adds  that  since  1841,  so  many 
improvements  have  been  introduced  by  double-decking  and  other  means,  that 
in  some  of  the  factories  named,  half  the  operatives  have  been  discharged.  In 
one  factory  alone,  where  eighty  Spinners  were  employed  a short  time  ago,  there 
are  now  but  twenty  left;  the  others  having  been  discharged  or  set  at  children’s 
Work  for  children’s  wages.  Of  Stockport,  Leach  teils  a similar  story,  that  in 
1835,  800  Spinners  were  employed,  and  in  1840  but  140,  though  the  manufacture 
of  Stockport  has  greatly  increased  during  the  last  eight  or  nine  years.  Similar 
improvements  have  now  been  made  in  carding  frames,  by  which  one-half  the 
operatives  have  been  thrown  out  of  employment.  In  one  factory  improved 
frames  have  been  set  up,  which  have  thrown  four  hands  out  of  eight  out  of 
work,  besides  which  the  employer  reduced  the  wages  of  the  four  retained  from 
eight  Shillings  to  seven.  The  same  process  has  gone  on  in  the  weaving  in- 
dustry; the  power-loom  has  taken  possession  of  one  brauch  of  hand-weaving 
after  another,  and  since  it  produces  much  more  than  the  hand-loom  while  one 
weaver  can  work  two  looms,  it  has  superseded  a multitude  of  working  people. 
And  in  all  scrts  of  manufacture,  in  fiax  and  wool  spinning,  in  silk  twisting,  the 
case  is  the  same.  The  power-loom,  too,  is  beginning  to  appropriate  one  brauch 
after  another  of  wool  and  linen  w^eaving;  in  Rochdale  alone,  there  are  more 
power  than  hand-looms  in  flannel  and  other  wool-w^eaving  branches.  The 
bourgeoisie  usually  replies  to  this,  that  improvements  in  machinery  by  decreas- 


* Stubborn  Facts  from  the  Factories  by  a Manchester  Operative.  Pablished  and  dedicated  to 
the  working  classes,  by  Wm.  Rashleigh,  M.  P.,  London,  Oihvier,  1844,  p.  28,  et  seq. 


— QI  — 

ing  the  cost  of  production,  siipply  finished  goods  at  lower  prices,  and  that  these 
reduced  prices  cause  such  an  increase  in  consumption  that  the  unemployed 
operatives  soon  find  full  employment  in  newly-founded  factories.*  The  bour- 
geoisie  is  so  far  correct  that  under  certain  condiiions  favorable  for  the  general 
development  of  manufacture,  every  reduction  in  price  of  goods  in  ivhich  tkernw 
material  is  cheap,  greatly  increases  consumption,  and  gives  rise  to  the  building 
of  new  factories;  but  every  further  word  of  the  assertion  is  a lie.  The 
bourgeoisie  ignores  the  fact  that  it  takes  years  for  these  results  of  the  decrease 
in  price  to  follow  and  for  new  factories  to  be  built;  it  is  silent  upon  the  point 
that  every  improvement  in  machinery  throws  the  real  work,  the  expenditure  of 
force  more  and  more  upon  the  machine,  and  so  transforms  the  work  of  full- 
^ grown  men  into  meref  supervision,  which  a feeble  woman  or  even  a child  can  do 
quite  as  well,  and  does  for  half  or  two-thirds  wages;  that,  therefore,  grown  men 
are  constantly  more  and  more  supplanted  and  7iot  re-e77iployed  by  the  increase  in 
manufacture;  it  conceals  the  fact  that  whole  branches  of  industry  fall  away,  or 
are  so  changed  that  they  must  be  learned  afresh;  and  it  takes  good  care  not  to 
confess  what  it  usually  harps  upon  whenever  the  question  of  forbidding  the  work 
of  children  is  broached,  that  factory-work  must  be  learned  in  earliest  youth  in 
Order  to  be  learned  properly.  It  does  not  mention  the  fact  that  the  process  of 
improvement  goes  steadily  on,  and  that  as  soon  as  the  operath'e  hassucceeded  in 
making  himself  at  home  in  a newbranch,  if  he  actually  does  succeed  in  so  doing, 
this,  too,  is  taken  from  him,  and  with  it  the  last  remnant  of  security  which  re- 
mained  to  him  for  winning  his  bread.  But  the  bourgeoisie  gets  the  benefit  of 
the  improvements  in  machinery;  it  has  a Capital  opportunity  for  piling  up  money 
during  the  first  years  while  many  old  machines  are  still  in  use,  and  the  improve- 
ment not  yet  universally  introduced;  and  it  would  be  too  much  to  ask  that  it 
should  häve  an  open  eye  for  the  disadvantages  inseparable  from  these  improve- 
ments. 

The  fact  that  improved  machinery  reduces  wages  has  also  been  as  violently 
disputed  by  the  bourgeoisie,  as  it  is  constantly  reiterated  by  the  workingmen. 
The  bourgeoisie  insists  that  although  the  price  of  piece-work  has  been  reduced, 
yet  the  total  of  wages  for  the  week’s  work  has  rather  risen  than  fallen,  and  the 
condition  of  the  operatives  rather  improved  than  deteriorated.  It  is  hard  toget 
to  the  bottom  of  the  matter,  for  the  operatives  usually  dwell  upon  the  price  of 
piece-work.  But  it  is  certain  that  the  weekly  wage,  also,  has,  in  many  branches 
of  work,  been  reduced  by  the  improvement  of  machinery.  U'he  so-called  fine 
Spinners,  (who  spin  fine  mule  yarn),  for  instance,  do  receive  high  wages,  thirty 
to  forty  Shillings  a week,  because  they  have  a powerful  association  for  keeping 
wages  Up,  and  their  craft  requires  long  training;  but  the  coarse  Spinners  who 
have  to  compete  against  self-actors,  (which  are  not  as  yet  adapted  for  fine  spin- 
ning),  and  whose  association  was  broken  down  by  the  introduction  of  these 
machines,  receive  very  low  wages.  A mule  Spinner  told  me  that  he  does  not 


Compare  Factories  Inquiry  Commkslon’s  Report. 


92 


earii  more  than  fourtecn  Shillings  a week,  and  his  Statement  agrees  with  that  of 
Leach,  that  in  various  factories  the  coarse  Spinners  earn  less  than  sixteen 
Shillings  and  sixpence  a week,  and  that  a Spinner,  who  years  ago  earned  thirty 
Shillings,  can  now  hardly  scrape  iip  twelve  and  a half,  and  had  not  earned  more 
on  an  average  in  the  past  year.  The  wages  of  women  and  children  may  perhaps 
have  fallen  less,  but  only  because  they  were  not  high  from  the  beginning.  I 
know  several  women,  widows  with  children,  who  have  trouble  enough  to  earn 
eight  to  nine  Shillings  a week;  and  that  they  and  their  families  cannot  live 
decently  upon  that  sum,  every  one  must  admit  who  knows  the  price  of  the  barest 
iiecessaries  of  life  in  England.  That  wages  in  general  have  been  reduced  by 
the  improvement  of  machinery  is  the  unanimous  testimony  of  the  operatives. 
The  bourgeois  assertion  that  the  condition  of  the  working  dass  has  been  iin- 
proved  by  machinery  is  most  vigorously  proclaimed  a falsehood  in  every  meeting 
of  workingmen  in  the  factory  districts.  And  even  if  it  were  true  that  the  relative 
wage,  the  price  of  piece^work  only  has  fallen,  while  the  absolute  wage,  the  sum 
to  be  earned  in  the  week,  remained  unchanged,  what  would  follow?  That  the 
operatives  have  had  quietly  to  look  on  while  the  manufacturers  filled  their  purses 
from  every  improvement  without  giving  the  hands  the  smallest  share  in  the 
gain.  The  bourgeois  forgets,  in  fighting  the  workingman,  the  most  ordinary 
principles  of  his  own  Political  Economy*  He  who  at  other  times  swears  by 
Malthus,  cries  out  in  his  anxiety  before  the  workers;  “ Where  could  the  millions 
by  which  the  population  of  England  has  increased,  find  work,  without  the  im- 
provements  in  machinery?’’*  As  though  the  bourgeois  did  not  know  well 
enough  that  without  machinery  and  the  expansion  of  industry  which  it  pro- 
duced,  these  “millions”  would  never  have  been  brought  into  the  world  and 
grown  Up!  The  Service  which  machinery  has  rendered  the  workers  is  simply 
this:  that  it  has  brought  home  to  their  minds  the  necessity  of  a social  reforni  by 
means  of  which  machinery  shall  no  longer  work  against  but  for  them.  Let  the 
wise  bourgeois  ask  the  people  who  sweep  the  streets  in  Manchester  and  else- 
where,  (though  even  this  is  past  now,  since  machines  for  the  purpose  have  been 
invented  and  introduced),  or  seil  salt,  matches,  oranges  and  shoe-strings  on  the 
Streets,  or  even  beg,  what  they  were  formerly,  and  he  will  see  how  many  will 
answer:  “ Mill  hands  thrown  out  of  work  by  machinery.”  The  consequences 
of  improvement  in  machinery  under  our  present  social  conditions  are,  for  the 
workingman,  solely  injurious,  and  often  in  the  highest  degree  oppressive. 
Every  new  advance  brings  with  it  loss  of  employment,  want  and  sufifering,  and 
in  a country  like  England  where,  without  that,  there  is  usually  a “ surplus  popu- 
lation,” to  be  discharged  from  work  is  the  worst  that  can  befall  the  operative. 
And  what  a dispiriting,  unnerving  influence  this  uncertainty  of  his  position  in 
life,  consequent  upon  the  unceasing  progress  of  machinery,  must  exercise  upon 
the  worker,  whose  lot  is  precarious  enough  without  it!  To  escape  despair,  there 
are  but  two  ways  open  to  him ; either  inward  and  outward  revolt  against  the 


L.  Symonds,  in  ArH  and  ArtizofOs. 


93 


bourgeoisie  or  drunkenness,  dissoluteness  in  general.  And  the  English  operatives 
are  accustomed  to  take  refuge  in  both.  The  history  of  the  English  Proletariat 
relateä  hundreds  of  uprisings  against  machinery  and  the  bourgeoisie;  we  have 
already  spoken  of  the  moral  dissolution  which,  in  itself,  is  only  another  sort  of 
despair. 

The  worst  Situation  is  that  of  those  workers  who  have  to  compete  against  a 
machine  that  is  making  its  way.  The  price  of  the  goods  which  they  produce 
adapts  itself  to  the  price  of  the  kindred  product  of  the  machine,  and  as  the  latter 
Works  more  cheaply,  its  human  competitor  has  but  the  lowest  wages.  The  same 
thing  happens  to  every  operative  employed  upon  an  old  machine  in  competition 
with  later  improvements.  And  who  eise  is  there  to  bear  the  hardship  ? The 
manufacturer  will  not  throw  out  his  old  apparatus,  nor  will  he  sustain  the  loss 
upon  it;  out  of  the  dead  mechanism  he  can  make  nothing,  so  he  fastens  upon 
the  living  worker,  the  universal  scapegoat  of  society.  Of  all  the  workers  in  com- 
petition with  machinery,  the  most  ill-used  are  the  hand-loom  cotton  weavers. 
They  receive  the  most  trifling  wages,  and,  with  full  work,  are  not  in  a position 
to  earn  more  than  ten  Shillings  a week.  One  dass  of  woven  goods  after  another 
is  annexed  by  the  power-loom,  and  hand-weaving  is  the  last  refuge  of  workers 
thrown  out  of  employment  in  other  branches,  so  that  the  trade  is  always  over- 
crowded.  Hence  it  comes  that,  in  average  seasons,  the  hand-weaver  counts 
himself  fortunate  if  he  can  earn  six  or  seven  Shillings  a week,  while  to  reach  this 
sum  he  must  sit  at  his  loom  fourteen  to  eighleen  hours  a day.  Most  woven 
goods  require  moreover  a damp  weaving-room,  to  keep  the  wool  from  snapping, 
and  in  part  for  this  reason,  in  partbecause  of  their  poverty  which  prevents  them 
from  paying  for  better  dwellings,  the  work-rooms  of  these  weavers  are  usually 
without  wooden  or  paved  floors.  I have  been  in  many  dwellings  of  such 
weavers,  in  remote,  vile  courts  and  alleys,  usually  in  cellars.  Often  half  a dozen 
of  these  hand-loom  weavers,  several  of  them  married,  live  together  in  a cottage 
with  one  or  two  work-rooms  and  one  large  sleeping-room.  Their  food  consists 
almost  exclusively  of  potatoes,  with  perhaps  oatmeal  porridge,  rarely  milk,  and 
scarcely  ever  meat.  Great  numbers  of  them  are  Irish  or  of  Irish  descent.  And 
these  poor  hand-loom  weavers,  first  to  suffer  from  every  crisis,  and  last  to  be  re- 
lieved  from  it,  must  serve  the  bourgeoisie  as  a handle  in  meeting  attacks  upon 
the  factory  System.  “ See,”  cries  the  bourgeois,  triumphantly,  “ see  how  these 
poor  creatures  must  famish,  while  the  mill  operatives  are  thriving,  and  the7t 
judge  the  factory*  System!”  As  though  it  were  not  precisely  the  factory  System 
and  the  machinery  belonging  to  it  which  had  so  shamefully  crushed  the  hand- 
loom  weavers,  and  as  though  the  bourgeoisie  did  not  know  this  quite  as  well  as 
ourselvesl  But  the  bourgeoisie  has  interests  at  stäke,  and  so  a falsehood  or  two 
and  a bit  of  hypocrisy  won’t  matter  much. 

Let  US  examine  somewhat  more  closely  the  fact  that  machinery  more  and 
more  supersedes  the  work  of  men.  The  human  labor,  involved  in  both  spinning 


♦ See  Dr.  Ure  in  the  Philosophy  of  Manufacture, 


94 


and  weaving,  consists  chiefly  in  piecing  broken  tbreads,  as  the  machine  does  all 
the  rest.  This  work  requires  no  muscular  strength,  but  only  flexibility  of 
finger.  Men  are  therefore  not  only  not  needed  for  it,  but  actually  by  reason  of 
the  greater  muscular  development  of  the  hand  less  fit  for  it  than  women  and 
children,  and  are  therefore  naturally  almost  superseded  by  them.  Hence,  the 
more  the  use  of  the  arms,  the  expenditure  of  strength,  can  be  transferred  to 
steam  or  water-power,  the  fewer  men  need  be  employed;  and  as  women  and 
children  work  more  cheaply,  and  in  these  branches  better  than  men,  they  take 
their  places.  In  the  spinning  mills  women  and  girls  are  to  be  found  in  almost 
exclusive  possession  of  the  throstles;  among  the  mules  one  man,  an  adult  Spinner, 
(with  self-actors  he,  too,  becomes  superfluous),  and  several  piecers  for  tying  the 
threads,  usually  children  or  women,  sometimes  young  men  of  from  eighteen  to 
twenty  years,  here  and  there  an  old  Spinner*  thrown  out  of  other  employment. 
At  the  power-looms  women,  from  fifteen  to  twenty  years,  are  chiefly  employed, 
and  a few  men;  these,  however,  rarely  remain  at  this  trade  after  their  twenty- 
flrst  year.  Among  the  preparatory  machinery,  too,  women  alone  are  to  be 
found,  with  here  and  there  a man  to  clean  and  sharpen  the  carding  frames. 
Besides  all  these,  the  factories  employ  numbers  of  children — doffers — for  moünt- 
ing  and  taking  down  bobbins,  and  a few  men  as  overlookers,  a mechanic  and  an 
engineer  for  the  steam-engines,  carpenters,  porters,  etc. ; but  the  actual  work  of 
the  mills  is  done  by  women  and  children.  This  the  manufacturers  deny. 

They  published  last  year  elaborate  tables  to  prove  that  machinery  does  not 
supersede  adult  male  operatives.  According  to  these  tables,  rather  more  than 
half  of  all  the  factory-workers  employed,  viz. : 52  per  Cent,  were  females  and  48 
per  Cent,  males,  and  of  these  operatives  more  than  half  were  over  eighteen  yea's 
old.  So  far,  so  good.  But  the  manufacturers  are  very  careful  not  to  teil  us, 
how  many  of  the  adults  were  men  and  how  many  women.  And  this  is  just  the 
point.  Besides  this,  they  have  evidently  counted  the  mechanics,  engineers, 
carpenters,  all  the  men  employed  in  any  way  in  the  factories,  perhaps  even  the 
clerks,  and  still  they  have  not  the  courage  to  teil  the  whole  truth,  These 
publications  teem  general  ly  with  falsehoods,  perversions,  crooked  Statements, 
with  calculations  of  averages,  that  prove  a great  deal  for  the  uninitiated  reader 
and  nothing  for  the  initiated,  and  with  suppressions  of  facts  bearing  on  the 
most  important  points;  and  they  prove  only  the  selfish  blindness  and  want  of 
uprightness  of  the  manufacturers  concerned.  Let  us  take  some  of  the  State- 
ments of  a Speech  with  which  Lord  Ashley  introduced  the  Ten  Hours  Bill,  March 
I5th,  1844,  into  the  House  of  Commons.  Here  he  gives  some  data  as  to  the 
relations  of  sex  and  age  of  the  operatives,  not  yet  refuted  by  the  manufacturers. 


* Report  of  Factory  Inspector,  L.  Horner,  October,  1844;  The  state  of  things  in  the  matte*" 

of  wages  is  greatly  perverted  in  certain  branches  of  cotton  manufacture  in  Lancashire;  there  are 
hundreds  of  young  men,  between  twenty  and  thirty,  employed  as  piecers  and  otherwise,  who  do 
not  get  more  than  8 or  9 Shillings  a week,  while  children  under  ihirteen  years,  working  under 
the  saine  roof,  earn  5 Shillings,  and  young  girls,  Iroiii  sixteen  to  twenty  years,  10 — 12  Shillings  per 
week.** 


95 


whose  Statements,  as  quoted  above,  cover  moreover  only  a pari  of  the  manufac- 
turing  industry  of  England.  Of  419,560  factory  operatives  of  the  British 
Empire  in  1839,  192,887,  or  nearly  half,  were  under  eighteen  years  of  age,  and 
242,296  of  the  female  sex,  of  whom  112,192  were  less  than  eighteen  years  old. 
There  remain,  therefore,  80,695  male  operatives  under  eighteen  years,  and 
96,569  adult  male  operatives,  or  not  one  full  quarter  of  the  whole  number.  In 
the  cotton  factories,  56^4^  per  cent.;  in  the  woollen  mills,  69^  per  cent.;  in  the 
silk  mills,  70^  per  cent. ; in  the  flax  spinning  mills,  70^  per  cent.  of  all  opera- 
tives are  of  the  female  sex.  These  numbers  suffice  to  prove  the  crowding  out  of 
adult  males.  But  you  have  only  to  go  into  the  nearest  mill  to  see  the  fact  con- 
firmed.  Hence  follows  of  necessity  that  Inversion  of  the  existing  social  Order 
which,  being  a constrained  one,  has  the  most  ruinous  consequences  for  the 
workers.  The  employment  of  women  at  once  breaks  up  the  family;  for  when 
the  wife  spends  twelve  or  thirteen  hours  every  day  in  the  mill,  and  the  husband 
Works  the  same  length  of  time  there  or  elsewhere,  what  becomes  of  the  children  ? 
They  grow  up  like  wild  weeds;  they  are  put  out  to  nurse  for  a Shilling  or 
eighteen  pence  a week,  and  how  they  are  treated  may  be  imagined.  Hence  the 
accidents  to  which  little  children  fall  victims  multiply  in  the  factory  districts  to 
a terrible  extent.  The  lists  of  the  Coroner  of  Manchester*  showed  for  nine 
months:  69  deaths  from  burning,  56  from  drowning,  23  from  falling,  77  from 
other  causes,  or  a total  of  225*  * deaths  from  accident,  while  in  non-manufac- 
turing  Liverpool  during  twelve  months,  there  were  but  146  fatal  accidents. 
The  mining  accidents  are  excluded  in  both  cases;  and  since  the  Coroner  of  Man- 
chester has  no  authority  in  Salford,  the  population  of  both  places  mentioned  in 
the  comparison  is  about  the  same.  The  Manchester  Guardian  reports  one  or 
more  deaths  by  burning  in  almost  every  number.  That  the  general  mortality 
among  young  children  must  be  increased  by  the  employment  of  the  mothers  is 
self-evident,  and  is  placed  beyond  all  doubt  by  notorious  facts.  Women  often 
return  to  the  mill  three  or  four  days  after  confinement,  leaving  the  baby,  of 
course;  in  the  dinner  hour  they  must  hurry  home  to  feed  the  child  and  eat  some- 
thing,  and  what  sort  of  suckling  that  can  be  is  also  evident.  Lord  Ashley 
repeats  the  testimony  of  several  w'orkwomen;  “M.  H.,  twenty  years  old,  has 
two  children,  the  youngest  a baby,  that  is  tended  by  the  other,  a little  older. 
The  mother  goes  to  the  mill  shortly  after  five  o’clock  in  the  morning  and  comes 
home  at  eight  at  night;  all  day  the  milk  pours  from  her  breastS,  so  that  her 
clothing  drips  with  it."  “ H.  W.  has  three  children,  goes  away  Monday  morn- 
ing at  five  o’clock  and  comes  back  Saturday  evening;  has  so  much  to  do  for  the 
children  then  that  she  cannot  get  to  bed  before  three  o’clock  in  the  morning; 
often  wet  through  to  the  skin,  and  obliged  to  work  in  that  state.”  She  said: 
“ My  breasts  have  given  me  the  most  frightful  pain,  and  I have  been  dripping 
wet  with  milk.”  The  use  of  narcotics  to  keep  the  children  still  is  fostered  by 


* Report  of  Factories  Inquiry  Commission.  Testimony  of  Dr.  Hawkins,  p.  3. 

♦ ♦In  1843,  among  the  accidents  brought  to  the  Infirmary  in  Manchester,  one  hundred  and 
eighty-nine  were  from  burnirg. 


96 


this  infamous  System,  and  has  reached  a great  extent  in  the  factory  districts. 
Dr.  Johns,  Registrar  in  Cliief  for  Manchester,  is  of  opinion  that  this  custom  is 
the  chief  source  of  the  many  deaths  from  convulsions.  The  employment  of  the 
wife  dissolves  the  family  utterly  and  of  necessity,  and  this  dissolution,  in  our 
present  society,  which  is  based  upon  the  family,  brings  the  most  demoralizing 
consequences  for  parents  as  well  as  children.  A mother  who  has  no  time  lo 
trouble  herseif  about  her  child,  to  perform  the  most  ordinary  loving  Services  for 
it  during  its  first  year,  who  scarcely  indeed  sees  it,  can  be  no  real  mother  to  the 
child,  must  inevitably  grpw  indifferent  to  it,  treat  it  unlovingly  like  a stranger. 
The  children  who  grow  up  under  such  conditions  are  utterly  ruined  for  later 
family  life,  can  never  feel  at  home  in  the  family  which  they  themselves  found, 
because  they  have  always  been  accustomed  to  isolation,  and  they  contribute 
therefore  to  the  already  general  undermining  of  the  family  in  :he  working  dass. 
A similar  dissolution  of  the  family  is  brought  about  by  the  employment  of  the 
children.  When  they  get  on  far  enough  to  earn  more  than  they  cost  their 
parents  from  week  to  week,  they  begin  to  pay  the  parents  a fixed  sum  for  board 
and  lodging,  and  keep  the  rest  for  themselves.  This  often  happens  in  the 
fourteenth  or  fifteenth  year.  ^ In  a word,  the  children  emancipate  themselves, 
and  regard  the  paternal  dwelling  as  a lodging-house,  which  they  often  exchange 
for  another,  as  suits  Ihem. 

In  many  cases  the  family  is  not  wholly  dissolved  by  the  employment  of  the 
wife,  but  turned  upside  down.  The  wife  Supports  the  family,  the  husband  sits 
at  home,  tends  the  children,  sweeps  the  room  and  cooks.  This  case  happens 
very  frequently;  in  Manchester  alone,  many  hundred  such  men  could  be 
cited,  condemned  to  domestic  occupations.  It  is  easy  to  imagine  the  wrath 
aroused  among  the  workingmen  by  this  reversal  of  all  relations  within  the 
family,  w^hile  the  otber  social  conditions  remain  unchanged.  There  lies  before 
me  a letter  from  an  English  workingman,  Robert  Pounder,  Baron’s  Buildings, 
Woodhouse  Moorside,  in  Leeds,  (the  bourgeoisie  may  hunt  him  up  there;  I give 
the  exact  address  for  the  purpose),  written  by  him  to  Oastler:^ 

He  relates  how  another  workingman,  being  on  tramp,  came  to  St.  Helens,  in 
Lancashire,  and  there  looked  up  an  old  friend.  He  found  him  in  a miserable, 
damp  cellar,  scarcely  furnished;  “and  when  my  poor  friend  went  in,  there  sat 
poor  Jack  nearthe  fire,  and  what  did  he,  think  you?  why  he  sat  and  mended  his 
wife’s  stockings  with  the  bodkin;  and  as  soon  as  he  saw  his  old  friend  at  the 
door-post,  he  tried  to  hide  them.  But  Joe,  that  is  my  friend’s  name,  had  seen 
it,  and  said:  “Jack,  what  the  devil  art  thou  doing?  Where  is  the  missus? 
Why  is  that  thy  work  and  poor  Jack  was  ashamed,  and  said:  “No,  I know 
this  is  not  my  work,  but  my  poor  missus  is  in  the  factory;  she  has  to  leave  at 

1.  Factories  Inquiry  Commission*s  Report,  Power’s  Report  on  Leeds;  passim  Tufn eil  Report 
on  Manchester,  p.  17,  etc. 

2.  This  letter  is  re-translated  from  the  German,  no  attempt  being  made  to  re-produce  either  the 
spelling  or  the  original  Yorkshire  dialect. 


97 


half-past  five  and  works  tili  eight  at  night,  and  then  she  is  so  knocked  up  that 
she  cannot  do  aught  when  she  gets  home,  so  I have  lo  do  everything  for  her 
what  I can,  for  I have  no  work  nor  had  any  for  more  nor  three  years,  and  I 
shall  never  have  any  more  work  while  I live."  And  then  he  wept  a big  tear, 
and  Joe  said:  “ There  is  work  enough  for  women  folks  and  childer  hereabouts, 
but  none  for  men;  thou  mayest  sooner  find  a hundred  pound  on  the  road  than 
work  for  men — but  I should  never  have  believed  that  either  thou  or  any  one  eise 
would  have  been  seen  mending  my  wife’s  stockings,  for  it  is  bad  work.  But 
she  can  hardly  stand  on  her  feet;  I am  afraid  she  will  be  laid  up,  and  then  I 
don’t  know  what  is  to  become  of  us,  for  it’s  a good  bit  that  she  has  been  the 
man  in  the  house  and  I the  woman;  it  is  bad  work,  Joe,"  and  he  cried  bitterly, 
and  said:  “It  has  not  been  always  so."  “ No,"  said  Joe;  “but  when  thou  hadn’t 
no  work,  how  hast  thou  shifted  ?"  “ I’ll  teil  thee,  Joe,  as  well  as  I could,  but  it 

was  bad  enough;  thou  knowest  when  I got  married  I had  work  plenty,  and  thou 
knows  I was  not  lazy."  “No,  that  thou  wert  not."  “And  we  had  a good 
furnished  house,  and  Mary  need  not  go  to  work.  I could  work  for  the  two  of 
us;  but  now  the  world  is  upside  down.  Mary  has  to  work  and  I have  to  stop  at 
home,  mind  the  childer,  sweep  and  wash,  bake  and  mend;  and,  when  the  poor 
woman  comes  home  at  night,  she  is  knocked  up.  Thou  knows,  Joe,  it’s  liard 
for  one  that  was  used  different."  “ Yes,  boy,  it  is  hard,"  and  then  Jack  began 
to  cry  again,  and  he  wished  he  had  never  married  and  that  he  had  never  been 
born;  but  he  had  never  thought,  when  he  wed  Mary,  that  it  would  come  to  this. 
“1  have  often  cried  over  it,"  said  Jack.  Now  when  Joe  heard  this,  he  told  me 
that  he  had  cursed  and  damned  the  factories,  and  the  masters,  and  the  govern- 
ment,  with  all  the  curses  that  he  had  learned,  while  he  was  in  the  factory  from  a 
child." 

Can  any  one  imagine  a more  insane  state  of  things  than  that  described  in  this 
letter?  And  yet  this  condition,  which  unsexes  the  man  and  takes  from  the 
woman  all  womanliness  without  being  able  to  bestow  upon  the  man  true  woman- 
liness,  or  the  woman  true  manliness,  this  condition  which  degrades,  in  the  most 
shameful  way,  both  sexes,  and,  through  them,  Ilumanity,  is  the  last  result  of 
our  much  praised  civilization,  the  final  achievement  of  all  the  efforts  and 
struggles  of  hundreds  of  generations  to  improve  their  own  Situation  and  that  of 
their  posterity.  We  must  either  despair  of  mankind,  and  its  aims  and  efforts. 
when  we  see  all  our  labor  and  toil  result  in  such  a mockery,  or  we  must  ad  mit 
that  human  society  has  hitherto  sought  salvation  in  a false  direction;  we  must 
admit  that  so  total  a reversal  of  the  position  of  the  sexes  can  have  come  to  pass 
only  because  the  sexes  have  been  placed  in  a false  position  from  the  beginning. 
If  the  reign  of  the  wife  over  the  husband,  as  inevitably  brought  about  by  the 
factory  System,  is  inhuman,  the  pristine  rule  of  the  husband  over  the  wife  must 
have  been  inhuman,  too.  If  the  wife  can  now  base  her  supremacy  upon  the 
fact  that  she  supplies  the  greater  part,  nay,  the  whole  of  the  common  possession, 
the  necessary  inference  is  that  this  community  of  possession  is  no  true  and 


rational  one,  since  one  member  of  the  family  boasts  offensively  of  contributing 
the  greater  share.  If  the  family  of  our  present  society  is  being  thus  dissolved, 
this  dissolution  merely  shows  that,  at  bottom,  the  binding  tie  of  this  family 
was  not  family  affection  but  private  interest  lurking  under  the  cloak  of  a pre- 
tended  community  of  possessions.  The  same  relation  exists  on  the  part  of 
those  children  who  Support  unemployed  parents’  when  they  do  not  directly  pay 
board  as  already  referred  to.  Dr.  Hawkins  testified  in  the  Factories  Inquiry 
Commission’s  Report,  that  this  relation  is  common  enough,  and  in  Manchester 
it  is  notorious.  ln  this  case  the  children  are  the  masters  in  the  house,  as  the 
wife  was  in  the  fornier  case,  and  Lord  Ashley  gives  an  example  of  this  in  his 
Speech:^  A man  berated  his  two  daughters  for  going  to  the  public  house,  and 
they  answered  that  they  were  tired  of  being  ordered  about,  saying:  “ Damn 
you,  we  have  to  keep  you!”  Determined  to  keep  the  proceeds  of  their  work  for 
themselves,  they  left  the  family  dwelling,  and  abandoned  their  parents  to  their 
fate. 

The  unmarried  women,  who  have  grown  up  in  mills,  are  no  better  off  than 
the  married  ones.  It  is  self-evident  that  a girl  who  has  worked  in  a mill  from 
her  ninth  year  is  in  no  position  to  understand  domestic  work,  whence  it  follows 
that  female  operatives  prove  wholly  inexperienced  and  unfit  as  housekeepers. 
They  cannot  knit  or  sew,  cook  or  wash,  are  unacquainted  with  the  most  ordinary 
duties  of  a housekeeper,-  and  when  they  have  young  children  to  take  care  of, 
have  not  the  vaguest  idea  how  to  set  about  it.  The  Factories  Inquiry  Com- 
mission’s Report  gives  dozens  of  examples  of  this,  and  Dr.  Hawkins,  Com- 
missioner  for  Lancashire,  expresses  his  opinion  as  follows:^ 

“ The  girls  marry  early  and  recklessly;  they  have  neither  means,  time,  nor 
opportunity  to  learn  the  ordinary  duties  of  household  life;  but  if  they  had  them 
all,  they  vfould  find  no  time  in  married  life  for  the  perf<^rmance  of  these  duties. 
The  mother  is  more  than  twelve  hours  away  from  her  child  daily;  the  baby  is 
cared  for  by  a young  girl  or  an  old  woman,  to  whom  it  is  given  to  nurse.  Be- 
sides  this,  the  dwelling  of  the  millhands  is  too  often  no  home  but  a cellar,  which 
contains  no  cooking  or  washing  Utensils,  no  sswing  or  mending  materials,  noth- 
ing which  makes  life  agreeable  and  civilized,  or  the  domestic  hearth  attractive. 
For  these  and  other  reasons.  and  especially  for  the  sake  of  the  better  chances  of 
life  for  the  little  children,  I can  but  wish  and  hope  that  a time  may  come  in 
which  married  women  will  be  shut  out  of  the  factories.  ” 

But  that  is  the  least  of  the  evil.  The  moral  consequences  of  the  employment 


1.  How  numerous  married  women  are  in  the  factories  is  seen  from  Information  furnished  by  a 
manufacturer : In  412  factories  in  Lancashire,  10,721  of  them  were  employed;  of  the  husbands 
of  these  women  but  5,314  were  also  employed  in  the  factories,  3,927  were  otherwise  employed, 
821  were  unemployed,  and  Information  was  wanting  as  to  659;  or  lwo,  if  not  three  men  for  each 
factory,  are  supported  by  the  work  of  their  wives. 

2.  House  of  Commons,  March  isth,  1844. 

3.  Factories  Inquiry  Commission’s  Report,  p.  4. 

4.  For  further  examples  and  information  compare  Factories  Inquiry  Commission’s  Report. 
Cowell  Evidence,  p.  37,  38,  39,  72,  77,  59:  FulneÜ  Evidence,  p.  9,  15.  45,  54,  etc. 


99 


of  women  in  factories  are  even  worse.  The  collecting  of  pensons  of  both  sexcs 
and  all  ag^es  in  a single  work-room,  the  inevitable  contact,  the  crowding  into 
a small  space  of  people,  to  whom  neither  mental  nor  moral  education  has  been 
given,  is  not  calculated  for  the  favorable  development  of  the  female  character. 
The  manufactnrer,  if  he  pays  any  attention  to  the  matter,  can  interfere  only 
when  something  scandaloiis  actually  happens;  the  permanent,  less  conspicuous 
influence  of  persons  of  dissolute  character,  upon  the  more  moral  and  especially 
upon  the  younger  ones,  he  cannot  ascertain,  and  consequently  cannot  prevent. 
But  precisely  this  influence  is  the  most  injurious.  The  language  used  in  the 
mills  is  characterized  by  many  witnesses  in  the  Report  of  1833,  as  “ indecent," 
“bad,”  “ filthy,"  etc.  ^ It  is  the  same  process  upon  a small  scale  which  we 
have  already  witnessed  upon  a large  one  in  the  great  cities.  The  centralization 
of  population  has  the  same  influence  upon  the  same  persons,  whether  it  affects 
them  in  a great  city  or  a small  factory.  The  smaller  the  mill  the  closer  the 
packing,  and  the  more  unavoidable  the  contact;  and  the  consequences  are  not 
wanting.  A witness  in  Leicester  said  that  he  would  rather  let  his  daughter  beg 
than  go  into  a factory;  that  they  are  perfect  gates  of  hell;  that  most  of  the 
prostitutes  of  the  town  had  their  employment  in  the  mills  to  thank  for  their 
present  Situation.^  Another,  in  Manchester,  “ did  not  hesitate  to  assert  that 
three-fourths  of  the  young  factory  employees,  from  fourteen  to  twenty  years  of 
age,  were  unchaste.”'^  Commissioner  Cowell  expresses  it  as  his  opinion,  that 
the  morality  of  the  factory  operatives  is  somewhat  below  the  average  of  that  of 
the  working  dass  in  general.'*^  And  Dr.  Hawkins’  says: 

“ An  estimate  of  sexual  morality  cannot  readily  be  reduced  to  figures;  but  if  I 
may  trust  my  own  observations  and  the  general  opinion  of  those  with  whom  I 
have  spoken,  as  well  as  the  whole  tenor  of  the  testimony  furnished  me,  the 
aspect  of  the  influence  of  factory  life  upon  the  morality  of  the  youthful  female 
population  is  most  depressing.” 

It  is  besides  a matter,  of  course,  that  factory  servitude,  llke  any  other,  and  to 
an  even  higher  degree,  confers  the  jiis prim ce  noctis,  upon  the  master.  In  this 
respect  also,  the  employer  is  sovereign  over  the  persons  and  charms  of  his  em- 
ployees. The  threat  of  discharge  suflices  to  overcome  all  resistance  in  nine 
cases  out  of  ten,  if  not  in  ninety-nine  out  of  a hundred,  in  girls  who,  in  any  case, 
have  no  strong  inducements  to  chastity.  If  the  master  is  mean  enough,  and 
the  official  report  mentions  several  such  cases,  his  mill  is  also  his  harem;  and 
the  fact  that  not  all  manufacturers  use  their  power,  does  not  in  the  least  change 
the  Position  of  the  girls.  In  the  beginning  of  manufacturing  industry,  when 
most  of  the  employers  were  upstarts  wiihout  education  or  considerations  for  the 


1.  Cowell  Evidence,  p.  35,  37,  and  elscwhere. 

2.  Power  Evidence,  p.  8, 

3.  Cowell  Evidence,  p.  57. 

4.  “ “ p.  82. 

5.  Factories  Inquiry  Commission’s  Report,  p.  4,  Hawkins. 


100 


hypocrisy  of  sodety,  they  let  nothing  interfere  wilh  the  exerdse  of  their  vested 
rights. 

To  form  a correct  judgment  of  the  influence  of  factory-work  upon  the  health 
of  the  female  sex,  it  is  necessary  first  to  consider  the  work  of  children,  and  then 
the  nature  of  the  work  itself.  From  the  beginning  of  manufacturing  industry, 
children  have  been  employed  in  mills;  at  first  almost  exclusively,  and  by  reason 
of  the  smallness  of  the  machines,  which  were  later  enlarged  Even  children  from 
the  workhouses  were  employed  in  multitudes,  being  rented  out  for  a number  of 
years  to  the  manufacturers  as  apprentices.  They  were  lodg^d,  fed,  and  clothed 
in  common,  and  were,  of  course,  completely  the  slaves  of  their  masters,  by 
whom  they  were  treated  with  the  utmost  recklessness  and  barbarity.  As  early 
as  1796,  the  public  objection  to  this  revolting  System  found  such  vigorous  ex- 
pression  through  Dr.  Percival  and  Sir  Robert  Peel,  (father  of  the  Cabinet 
Minister  and  himself  a cotton  manufacturer),  that  in  1802  Parliament  passed  an 
Apprentice  Bill,  by  which  the  most  crying  evils  were  removed.  Gradually  the 
increasing  competition  of  free  w^ork-people  crowded  out  the  whole  apprentice 
System;  factories  were  built  in  cities,  machinery  was  constructed  on  a larger 
scale,  and  work-rooms  were  made  more  airy  and  wholesome;  gradually.  too. 
more  work  was  found  for  adults  and  young  persons.  The  number  of  children 
in  the  mills  diminished  somewhat,  and  the  age  at  wnich  they  began  to  work  rose 
a little;  few  children  under  eight  or  nine  years  were  now  employed.  Later,  as 
we  shall  see,  the  power  of  the  State  intervened  several  times  to  protect  them 
from  the  money  greed  of  the  bourgeoisie. 

The  great  mortality  among  children  of  the  working  dass,  and  especially 
among  those  of  the  factory  operatives,  is  proof  enough  of  the  unwholesome  con- 
ditions  under  which  they  pass  their  first  year.  These  influences  are  at  work,  of 
course,  among  the  children  who  survive,  but  not  quite  so  powerfully  as  upon 
those  who  succumb.  The  result  in  the  most  favorable  case  is  a tendency  to  dis- 
ease, or  some  check  in  development,  and  consequent  less  than  normal  vigor  of 
the  Constitution.  A nine  years  old  child  of  a factory  operative  that  has  grown 
Up  in  want,  privation  and  changing  conditions,  in  cold  and  damp,  with  insuf- 
ficient  clüthing  and  unwholesome  dwellings,  is  far  from  having  the  working 
force  of  a child  brought  up  under  healthier  conditions.  At  nine  years  of  age,  it 
is  sent  into  the  mill  to  work  hours,  (formerly  8,  earlier  still,  12  to  14,  even 
16  hours)  daily,  until  the  thirteenth  year;  then  twelve  hours  until  the  eighteenth 
year.  The  old  enfeebling  influences  continue,  while  the  work  is  added  to 
them.  It  is  not  to  be  denied  that  a child  of  nine  years,  even  an  operative’s 
child,  can  hold  out  through  six  and  a half  hours  daily  work,  without  any  one’s 
being  able  to  trace  visible  bad  results  in  its  development  directly  to.this  cause; 
but  in  no  case  can  its  presence  in  the  damp,  heavy  air  of  the  factory,  often  at 
once  warm  and  wet,  contribute  to  good  health;  and,  in  any  case,  it  is  unpardon- 
able  to  sacrifice  to  the  greed  of  an  unfeeling  bourgeoisie  the  time  of  children 
which  should  be  devoted  solely  to  their  physical  and  mental  development,  with- 
draw  them  from  school  and  the  fresh  air,  in  order  to  vvear  them  out  for  the 


— lOI  — 

benefit  of  the  maniifacturers.  The  bourgeoisie  says:  “ If  we  do  not  employ  the 
children  in  the  mills,  they  only  remain  under  conditions  unfavorable  to  their  de- 
velopment;” and  this  is  trne  on  the  whole.  But  what  does  this  mean  if  it  is  not 
a confession  that  the  bourgeoisie  first  places  the  children  of  the  working  dass 
under  unfavorable  conditions,  and  then  exploits  these  bad  conditions  for  its 
own  benefit,  appeals  to  that  which  is  as  much  its  own  fault  as  the  factory 
System,  excuses  the  sin  of  to-day  with  the  sin  of  yesterday  ? And  if  the  Factory 
Act  did  not  in  some  measure  fetter  their  hands,  how  this  “humane,”  this 
“benevolent”  bourgeoisie,  which  has  built  its  factories  solely  for  the  good  of 
the  working  dass,  would  take  care  of  the  interests  of  these  workers!  Let  us 
hear  how  they  acted  before  the  factory  inspector  was  at  their  heels.  Their  own 
admitted  testimony  shall  convict  them  in  the  Report  of  the  Factories  Inquiry 
Commission  of  1833. 

The  report  of  the  Central  Commission  relates  that  the  manufacturers  began  to 
employ  children  rarely  of  five  years,  often  of  six,  very  often  of  seven,  usually  of 
eight  to  nine  years;  that  the  working-day  often  lasted  fourteen  to  sixteen  hours, 
exclusive  of  meals  and  intervals;  that  the  manufacturers  permitted  overlookers 
to  flog  and  maltreat  children,  and  often  took  an  active  part  in  so  doing  them- 
selves.  One  case  is  related  of  a Scotch  manufacturer,  who  rode  after  a sixteen 
years  old  runaway,  forced  him  to  return  running  before  the  employer  as  fast  as 
the  master’s  horse  trotted,  and  beat  him  the  whole  way  with  a long  whip.'  In 
the  large  towns  where  the  operatives  resisted  more  vigorously,  such  things 
naturally  happened  less  often.  But  even  this  long  working  day  failed  to  satisfy 
the  greed  of  the  capitalists.  Their  aim  was  to  make  the  Capital  invested  in  the 
building  and  machinery  produce  the  highest  return,  by  every  available  means, 
to  make  it  work  as  actively  as  possible.  Ilence  the  manufacturers  introduced 
the  shameful  System  of  night-work.  Some  of  them  employed  two  sets  of  opera- 
tives, each  numerous  enough  to  fill  the  whole  mill,  and  let  one  set  work  the 
twelve  hours  of  the  day,  and  the  other  twelve  hours  of  the  night.  It  is  needless 
to  picture  the  effect  upon  the  frames  of  young  children,  and  even  upon  the 
health  of  young  persons  and  adults,  produced  by  permanent  loss  of  sleep  at 
night,  which  cannot  be  made  good  by  any  amount  of  sleep  during  the  day. 
Irritation  of  the  whole  nervous  System,  with  general  lassitude  and  enfeeblement 
of  the  entiie  frame  were  the  inevitable  results,  with  the  fostering  of  temptation 
to  drunkenness  and  unbridled  sexual  indulgence.  One  manufacturer  testifies* 
that  during  the  two  years  in  which  night-work  was  carried  on  in  his  factory,  the 
number  of  illegitimate  children  born  was  doubled,  and  such  general  demoraliza- 
tion  prevailed  that  he  was  obliged  to  give  up  night-work.  Other  manufacturers 
were  yet  more  barbarous,  requiring  many  hands  to  work  thirty  to  forty  hours  at 
a Stretch,  several  times  a week,  letting  them  get  a couple  of  hours  sleep  only, 


1.  Stuart  Evidence,  p.  35. 

2,  Tufnell  Evidence,  p.  91. 


102 


because  the  night  shift  was  not  complete,  but  calculated  to  replace  a part  of  the 
operatives  only. 

The  reports  of  the  Commission  touching  this  barbarism  surpass  everything 
that  is  known  to  me  in  this  line.  Such  infamies,  as  are  here  related,  are 
nowhere  eise  to  be  found — yet  we  shall  see  that  the  bourgeoisie  constantly 
appeals  to  the  testimony  of  the  Commission  as  being  in  its  own  favor.  The 
consequences  of  these  cruelties  became  evident  quickly  enough.  The  Com- 
missioners  mention  a crowd  of  cripples  who  appeared  before  them,  who  clearly 
owed  their  distortion  to  the  long  working  hours.  This  distortion  usually  con- 
sists  of  a curving  of  the  spinal  column  and  legs,  and  is  described  as  follows.  by 
Francis  Sharp,  M.  R.  C.  S.,  of  Leeds:  ^ 

“ I never  saw  the  peculiar  bending  of  the  lower  ends  of  the  thigh  bones  before 
I came  to'  Leeds.  At  first  I thought  it  was  Rachitis,  but  I was  soon  led  to 
change  my  opinion  in  consequence  of  the  mass  of  patients  who  presented  them- 
selves  at  the  hospital,  and  the  appearances  of  the  disease  at  an  age,  (from  the 
fourteenth  to  the  eighteenth  year),  in  which  children  are  usually  not  subject  to 
Rachitis,  as  well  as  by  the  circumstance  that  the  malady  had  first  appeared  after 
children  began  to  work  in  the  mills.  Thus  far  I have  seen  about  a hundred 
such  cases.  and  can,  most  decidedly,  express  the  opinion  that  they  are  the  con- 
sequences of  overwork.  So  far  as  I know  they  were  all  mill  children,  and  them- 
selves  attributed  the  evil  to  this  cause.  The  number  of  cases  of  curvature  of 
the  spine  which  have  fallen  under  my  Observation,  and  which  were  evidently 
consequent  upon  too  protracted  Standing,  was  not  less  than  three  hundred.” 

Precisely  similar  is  the  testimony  of  Dr.  Ray,  for  eighteen  years  physician  in 
the  hospital  in  Leeds 

“ Malformations  of  the  spine  are  very  frequent  among  mill  hands;  some  of 
them  consequent  upon  mere  overwork,  others  the  effect  of  long  work  upon  con- 
stitutions  originally  feeble,  or  weakened  by  bad  food.  Deformities  seem  even 
more  frequent  tlian  these  diseases;  the  knees  were  bent  inward,  the  ligaments 
very  often  relaxed  and  enfeebled,  and  the  long  bones  of  the  legs  bent.  The 
thick  ends  of  these  long  bones  were  especially  apt  to  be  bent  and  disproportion- 
ately  developed,  and  these  patients  came  from  the  factories  in  which  long  work 
hours  were  of  frequent  occurrence.” 

Surgeons  Beaumont  and  Sharp,  of  Bradford,  bear  the  same  testimony.  The 
reports  of  Drinkwater,  Power,  and  Dr.  London  contain  a muhitude  of  examples 
of  such  distortions,  and  those  of  Tufnell  and  Sir  David  Barry,  which  are  less 
directed  to  this  point,  give  single  examples.  ^ The  Commissioners  for  Lanca- 


1.  Br.  London  Evidence,  pp.  12,  13, 

2.  Dr.  London  Evidence,  p.  16, 

3.  Drinkwater  Evidence,  pp.  72,  80,  146,  148,  150,  two  brothers;  69  two  brothers,  155  and 

many  others. 

Power  Evidence,  pp.  63,  66,  67,  (two  cases);  68,  (three  cases);  69,  (two  cases);  in  Leeds,  p. 
29.  3L  40,  43,  53,  et.  seg. 

London  Evidence,  pp.  4,  7,  (fonr  cases);  8,  (several  cases),  etc. 

Sir  D.  Barry  Evidence,  pp.  6,  8,  13,  21,  22,  44,  55,  (three  cases),  etc. 

Tufnell  Evidence,  pp.  5,  6,  16,  etc. 


103 


shire,  Cowell,  Tufnell  and  Hawkins  have  almost  wholly  neglected  this  aspect  of 
the  physiological  results  of  the  factory  System  though  this  district  rivals  York- 
shire  in  the  number  of  cripples.  I have  seldom  traversed  Manchester  without 
meeting  three  or  four  of  them,  suffering  from  precisely  the  same  distortions  of 
the  spinal  columns  and  legs  as  that  described,  and  I have  often  been  able  to 
observe  them  closely.  I know  one  personally,  who  corresponds  exactly  with  the 
foregoing  description  of  Dr.  Ray,  and  who  got  into  this  condition  in  Mr. 
Douglas’  factory  in  Pendleton,  an  establishment  which  enjoys  an  unenviable 
notoriety  among  the  operatives  by  reason  of  the  former  long  working  periods 
continued  night  after  night.  It  is  evident,  at  a glance,  whence  the  distortions 
of  these  cripples  come;  they  all  look  exactly  alike.  The  knees  are  bent  inward 
and  backwards,  the  ankles  deformed  and  thick,  and  the  spinal  column  often 
bent  forwards  or  to  one  side.  But  the  crown  belongs  to  the  philanthropic 
manufacturers  of  the  Macclesfield  silk  district.  They  employed  the  youngest 
children  of  all,  even  from  five  to  six  years  of  age.  In  the  supplementary  testi- 
mony  of  Commissioner  Tufnell,  I find  the  Statement  of  a certain  factory 
manager  Wright,  both  of  whose  sisters  were  most  shamefully  crippled,  and  who 
had  once  counted  the  cripples  in  several  streets,  some  of  them  the  cleanest  and 
neatest  streets  of  Macclesfield.  He  found  in  Townley  Street  ten,  George  Street 
five,  Charlotte  Street  four,  Watercots  fifteen,  Bank  Top  three,  Lord  Street 
seven,  Mill  Lane  twelve,  Great  George  Street  two,  in  the  workhouse  two,  Park 
Green  one,  Peckford  Street  two,  whose  families  all  unanimously  declared  that 
the  cripples  had  become  such  in  consequence  of  overwork  in  the  silk  twisting 
mills.  One  boy  is  mentioned  so  crippled  as  not  to  be  able  to  go  upstairs,  and 
girls  deformed  in  back  and  hips, 

Other  deformities  also  have  proceeded  from  this  overwork,  especially  flatten- 
ing  of  the  foot,  which  Sir  D.  Barry ^ frequently  observed,  as  did  the  physicians 
and  surgeons  in  Leeds.  ^ In  cases,  in  which  a stronger  Constitution,  better  food 
and  other  more  favorable  circumstances  enabled  the  young  operative  to  resist 
this  effect  of  a barbarous  exploitation,  we  find  at  least  pain  in  the  back,  hips 
and  legs,  swollen  joints,  varicose  veins,  and  large,  persistent  ulcers,  in  the  thighs 
and  calves.  These  affeciions  are  almost  universal  among  the  operatives;  the 
Reports  of  Stuart,  Mackintosh  and  Sir  D.  Barry  contain  hundreds  of  examples; 
indeed,  they  know  almost  no  operative  who  did  not  suffer  from  some  of  these 
affections;  and  in  theremaining  reports,  the  occurrence  of  the  same  phenomena  is 
attested  by  many  physicians.  The  Reports  covering  Scotland  place  it  beyond 
all  doubt,  that  a working-day  of  thirteen  hours  even  for  men  and  women,  from 
eighteen  to  twenty-two  years  of  age,  produces  at  least  these  consequences,  both 
in  the  flax  spinning  mills  of  Dundee  and  Dumferline,  and  in  the  cotton  mills  of 
Glasgow  and  Lanark. 


1.  Factories  Inquiry  Commission’s  Report,  1836,  Sir  D.  Barry  Evidence,  p.  at,  (two  cases.) 
“ “ “ “ “ Loudon  “ pp.  13,  16,  etc. 


104 


All  these  affections  are  easily  explained  by  the  nature  of  factory-work,  which 
fe  as  the  manufacturers  say,  very  “ light,”  and  precisely  by  reason  of  its  light- 
ness,  more  enervating  than  any  other.  The  operatives  have  little  to  do,  but 
must  stand  the  whole  time.  Any  one  who  sits  down,  say  upon  a window-ledge 
or  a basket,  is  fined,  and  this  perpetual  upright  position,  this  constant  mechan- 
ical  pressure  of  the  upper  portions  of  the  body  upon  spinal  column,  hips  and 
legs,  inevitably  produces  the  results  mentioned.  This  Standing  is  not  required 
by  the  work  itself,  and  at  Nottingham  chairs  have  been  introduced  with  the 
result  that  these  affections  disappeared,  and  the  operatives  ceased  to  object  to 
the  length  of  the  working-day.  But  in  a factory  where  the  operative  works 
solely  for  the  bourgeois,  and  has  small  interest  in  doing  his  work  well,  he  would 
probably  use  the  seats  more  than  would  be  agreeable  and  profitable  to  the 
manufaclurer;  and  in  Order  that  somewhat  less  raw  material  may  be  spoiled  for 
the  bourgeois,  the  operative  must  sacrifice  health  and  strength.  ^ This  long 
protracted  upright  position,  with  the  bad  atmosphere  prevalent  in  the  mills, 
entails,  besides  the  deformities  mentioned,  a marked  relaxation  of  all  vital 
energies  and,  in  consequence,  all  sorts  of  other  affections  general  rather  than 
local.  The  atmosphere  of  the  factories  is,  as  a rule,  at  once  damp  and  warm, 
usually  warmer  than  is  necessary  and,  when  the  Ventilation  is  not  very  good, 
impure,  heavy,  deficient  in  oxygen,  filled  with  dust  and  the  smell  of  the  machine 
oil  which  almost  everywhere  smears  the  floor,  sinks  into  it,  and  becomes  rancid. 
The  operatives  are  lightly  clad  by  reason  of  the  warmth  and  would  readily  take 
cold  in  case  of  irregularity  of  the  temperature;  a draught  is  distasteful  to  them, 
the  general  enervation  which  gradually  takes  possession  of  all  the  physical  func- 
tions,  diminishes  the  animal  warmth;  this  must  be  replaced  from  without,  and 
nothing  is  Iherefore  more  agreeable  to  the  operative  than  to  have  all  the  doors 
and  Windows  closed,  and  to  stay  in  his  warm  factory  air.  Then  comes  the  sud- 
den  change  of  temperature  on  going  out  into  the  cold  and  wet  or  frosty 
atmosphere,  without  the  means  of  protection  from  rain,  or  of  changing  wet 
clothing  for  dry,  a circumstance  which  perpetually  produces  colds.  And  when 
one  reflects  that,  with  all  this,  not  one  single  muscle  of  the  body  is  really 
exercised,  really  called  into  activity,  except  perhaps  those  of  the  legs;  that  noth- 
ing whatsoever  counteracts  the  ennervating,  relaxing  tendency  of  all  these  con- 
ditions;  that  every  influence  is  wanting  which  might  give  the  muscles  strength, 
the  fibres  elasticity  and  consistency;  that  from  youth  up,  the  operative  is 
deprived  of  all  fresh  air  recreation,  it  is  impossible  to  wonder  at  the  almost 
unanimous  testimony  of  the  physicians  in  the  Factories  Report,  that  they  find  a 
great  lack  of  ability  to  resist  disease,  a general  depression  in  vital  activity,  a 
constant  relaxation  of  the  mental  and  physical  powers,  Let  us  hear  Sir  D.  Barry 
first:" 


1.  In  the  splnning  room  of  a mill  at  Leeds,  too,  chairs  had  been  introduced.  Drinkwater 
Evidence,  p.  8o, 

2.  General  report  by  Sir  D.  Barry. 


105 


“ The  unfavorable  influences  of  mill-work  upon  tlie  hands  are  the  following: 
I.)  The  inevitable  necessity  of  forcing'  their  mental  and  bodily  effort  to  keep 
p.ice  with  a machine  moved  by  a uniform  and  unceasing  motive  power.  2.) 
Continuance  in  an  upright  position  during  unnaturally  long  and  quickly  recur- 
ring  periods.  3.)  Löss  of  sleep  in  consequence  of  too  long  working  hours,  pain 
in  the  legs,  and  general  physical  derangement.  To  these  are  often  added  low, 
crowded,  dusty  or  damp  work-rooms,  impure  air,  a high  temperature,  and  con- 
stant  perspiration.  Hence  the  boys  especially,  very  soon  and  with  but  few  ex- 
ceptions,  lose  the  rosy  freshness  of  childhood,  and  become  paler  and  thinner 
than  other  boys.  Even  the  hand-weaver’sbound-boy,  who  sits  before  his  loom 
with  his  bare  feet  resting  upon  the  clay-floor,  retains  a fresher  appearance, 
because  he  occasionally  goes  into  the  fresh  air  for  a time.  But  the  mill  child 
has  not  a moment  free  except  for  meals,  and  never  goes  into  the  fresh  air  except 
on  its  way  to  them.  All  adult  male  Spinners  are  pale  and  thin,  suffer  from 
capricious  appetite  and  Indigestion;  and  as  they  are  all  trained  in  the  mills  from 
youth  up,  and  there  are  very  few  tall,  athletic  men  among  them,  the  conclusion 
is  justified  that  their  occupation  is  very  unfavorable  for  the  development  of  the 
male  Constitution;  females  bear  this  work  far  better.”  (Very  naturally.  But  we 
shall  see  that  they  have  their  own  diseases.) 

So,  too,  Power:  ^ 

“ I can  bear  witness  that  the  factory  System  in  Bradford  has  engendered  a 
multitude  of  cripples,  and  that  the  effect  of  long  continued  labor  upon  the 
physique  is  apparent  not  alone  in  actual  deformity,  but  also  and  much  more 
generally  in  stunted  growth,  relaxation  of  the  muscles,  and  delicacy  of  the  whole 
frame.” 

So,  too,  F.  Sharp,  in  Leeds, the  surgeon  already  quoted: 

“When  I moved  from  Scarborough  to  Leeds,  I was  at  once  struck  by  the  fact 
that  the  general  appearance  of  the  children  was  much  paler,  and  their  fiber  less 
vigorous  here  than  in  Scarborough  and  its  environs.  I saw,  too,  that  many 
children  were  exceptionally  small  for  their  age.  I have  met  witl»  numberless 
cases  of  scrophula,  lung  trouble,  mesenteric  affections  and  Indigestion,  concern- 
ing  which  I,  as  a physician,  have  not  a doubt  that  they  arose  from  mill  work.  I 
believe  that  the  nervous  energy  of  the  body  is  weakened  by  the  long  hours  and 
the  foundation  of  many  diseases  laid.  If  people  from  the  country  were  not  con- 
stantly  coming  in,  the  race  of  millhands  would  soon  be  wholly  degenerate.” 

So,  too,  Beaumont,  surgeon  in  Bradford: 

“To  my  thinking,  the  System,  according  to  which  work  is  done  in  the  mills 
here,  produces  a peculiar  relaxation  of  the  whole  organism,  and  thereby  makes 


1.  Power  Report,  p.  74. 

2.  The  surgeons  in  England  are  scientifically  educated  as  well  as  the  physicians,  and  have,  in 
general,  medical  as  well  as  surgical  practice.  They  are  in  general,  for  various  reasons,  preferred 
to  the  physicians. 


— to6  — 

children  in  the  highest  degree  susceptible  to  epidemic,  as  well  as  to  incidental 
illness.  I regard  the  absence  of  all  appropriate  regulations  for  Ventilation  and 
cleanliness  in  the  mills  very  decidedly  as  the  chief  cause  of  that  peculiar 
tendency  or  susceptibility  to  morbid  affections  which  I have  so  frequently  met 
in  my  practice.’* 

Similar  testimony  is  borne  by  Dr.  Ray: 

I.)  “ I have  had  opportunity  of  observing  the  effects  of  the  factory  System 
upon  the  health  of  children  under  the  most  favorable  circumstances  (in  Wood’s 
mill,  in  Bradford,  the  best  arranged  of  the  district,  in  which  he  was  factory 
physician).  2.)  These  effects  are  decidedly  and,  to  a very  great  extent,  injurious 
even  under  these  most  favorable  circumstances.  3.)  In  the  year  1842,  three» 
fifths  of  all  the  children  employed  in  Wood’s  mill  were  treated  by  me.  4.)  The 
w’orst  effect  is  not  the  predominence  of  deformities,  but  of  enfeebled  and  mopbid 
constitutions.  5.)  All  this  is  greatly  improved  since  the  working  hours  of  chil- 
dren have  been  reduced  at  Wood’s  to  ten.” 

The  Commissioner,  Dr.  London  himself,  who  cites  these  witnesses,  says: 

“ In  conclusion,  I think  it  has  been  clearly  proved  that  children  have  been 
worked  a most  unreasonable  and  cruel  length  of  time  daily,  and  that  even  adults 
have  been  expected  to  do  a certain  quantity  of  labor  which  scarcely  any  human 
being  is  able  to  endure.  The  consequence  is  that  many  have  died  prematurely, 
and  others  are  afflicted  for  life  wnth  defective  constitutions,  and  the  fear  of  a 
posterity  enfeebled  by  the  shattered  Constitution  of  the  survivors  is  but  too  well 
founded,  from  a physiological  point  of  view.” 

And,  finally,  Dr.  Hawkins,  in  speaking  of  Manchestei. 

“ I believe  that  most  travelers  are  struck  by  the  lowness  ot  staturc,  the  lean- 
ness  and  the  paleness  which  present  themselves  so  commonly  to  the  eye  at  Man- 
chester, and  above  all,  among  the  factory  classes.  I have  never  been  in  any 
town  in  Great  Britain,  nor  in  Europe,  in  which  degeneracy  of  form  and  color 
from  the  national  Standard  has  been  so  obvious.  Among  the  married  women 
all  the  characteristic  peculiarities  of  the  English  woman  are  conspicuously  want- 
ing.  I must  confess  that  all  the  boys  and  girls  brought  before  me  from  the 
Manchester  mills  had  a depressed  appearance  and  were  very  pale.  In  the  ex- 
pression  of  their  faces  lay  nothing  of  the  usual  mobility,  liveliness  and  cheeriness 
of  youth.  Many  of  them  told  me  that  they  feit  not  the  slightest  inclination  to 
play  out  of  doors  on  Saturday  and  Sunday,  but  preferred  to  be  quiet  at  home.” 

I add,  at  once,  another  passage  of  Hawkin’s  Report,  which  only  half  belongs 
here,  but  may  be  quoted  here  as  well  as  anywhere  eise: 

“ Intemperance,  excess  and  want  of  providence  are  the  chief  faults  of  the 
factory  population,  and  these  evils  may  be  readily  traced  to  the  habits  which  are 
formed  under  the  present  System  and  almost  inevitably  arise  from  it.  It  is 
universally  admitted  that  indigestion,  hypochondria  and  general  debility  affect 


107 


this  dass  to  a very  great  extent.  After  twelve  hours  of  monotonous  toil,  it  is 
but  natural  to  look  about  for  a stimulant  of  one  sort  or  another;  but  when  the 
above  mentioned  diseased  conditions  are  added  to  the  customary  weariness, 
peoplewill  quickly  and  repeatedly  take  refuge  in  spirituous  liquors.” 

For  all  this  testimony  of  the  physicians  and  commissioners,  the  Report,  itself 
offers  hundreds  of  cases  of  proof.  That  the  growth  of  young  operatives  is 
stunted,  by  their  work,  hundreds  of  Statements  testify;  among  others,  Cowell 
gives  the  weight  of  46  youths  of  17  years  of  age,  from  one  Sunday  school, 
of  whom  26  employed  in  mills,  averaged  104.5  pounds,  and  20  not  employed 
in  mills,  117.7  pounds.  One  of  the  largest  manufacturers  of  Manchester,  leader 
of  the  Opposition  against  the  workingmen,  I think  Robert  Hyde  Greg,  said, 
himself,  on  one  occasion,  that  if  things  went  on  as  at  present,  the  operatives  of 
Lancashire  would  soon  be  a race  of  pigmies.  ^ A recruiting  officer^  testified 
that  operatives  are  little  adapted  for  military  service,  looked  thin  and  nervoiis, 
and  were  frequently  rejected  by  the  physicians  as  unfit.  In  Manchester  he 
could  hardly  get  men  of  five  feet,  eight  inches;  they  were  usually  only  five  feet, 
six  to  seven,  whereas  in  the  agricultural  districts,  most  of  the  recruits  were  five 
feet  eight. 

The  men  wear  out  very  early  in  consequence  of  the  conditions  under  which 
they  live  and  work.  Most  of  them  are  unfit  for  work  at  forty  years,  a few  hold 
out  to  forty-five,  almost  none  to  fifty  years  of  age.  This  is  caused  not  only  by 
the  general  enfeeblement  of  the  frame,  but  also  very  often  by  a failure  of  the 
sight,  which  is  a result  of  mule-spinning,  in  which  the  operative  is  obliged  to 
fix  his  gaze  upon  a long  row  of  fine,  parallel  threads,  and  so  greatly  to  strain  the 
sight. 

Of  1600  operatives  employed  in  several  factories  in  Harpur  and  Lanark,  but 
10  were  over  45  years  of  age;  of  22,094  operatives  in  diverse  factories  in 
Stockport  and  Manchester,  but  143  were  over  45  years  old.  Of  these  143, 
16  were  retained  as  a special  favor,  and  one  was  doing  the  work  of  a child.  A 
list  of  131  Spinners  contained  but  seven  over  45  years,  and  yet  the  whole  131 
were  rejected  by  the  manufacturers,  to  whom  they  applied  for  work,  as  “ too 
old,"  and  were  without  means  of  support  by  reason  of  old  age!  Mr.  Ashworth, 
a large  manufacturer,  admits  in  a letter  to  Lord  Ashley,  that,  towards  the 
fortieth  year,  the  Spinners  can  no  longer  prepare  the  required  quantity  of  yani, 
and  are  therefore  “sometimes”  discharged;  he  calls  operatives  forty  years  of 
age  “oldpeoplel"  Commissioner  Mackintosh  expresses  himself  in  the  same 
way  in  the  Report  of  1833: 

“ Although  I was  prepared  for  it  from  the  way  the  children  are  employed,  I 
still  found  it  difficult  to  believe  the  Statements  of  the  older  hands  as  to  their 
ages;  they  age  so  very  early." 

Surgeon  Smellie,  of  Glasgow,  who  treated  operatives  chiefly,  says  that  forty 


1.  This  Statement  is  not  taken  from  the  report. 
a.  Tufnell,  p.  59. 


io8 


years  is  old  age  for  thcm.’  And  similar  evidence  may  be  found  elsewhere.®  In 
Manchester,  this  premature  old  age  among  the  operatives  is  so  universal  that 
almost  every  man  of  forty  would  be  taken  for  ten  to  fifteen  years  older,  while 
the  prosperous  classes,  men  as  well  as  women,  preserve  their  appearance  exceed- 
ingly  well  if  they  do  not  drink  too  heavily. 

The  influence  of  factory-work  upon  the  female  physique  also  is  marked  and 
peculiar.  The  deformities  entailed  by  long  hours  of  work,  are  much  more 
serious  among  women.  Protracted  work  frequently  causes  deformities  of  the 
pelvis,  partly  in  the  shape  of  abnormal  position  and  development  of  the  hip 
bones,  partly  of  malformation  of  the  lower  portion  of  the  spinal  column. 

“ Although,”  says  Dr.  London,  in  his  report,  “ no  example  of  malformation 
of  the  pelvis  and  of  some  other  affections  came  under  my  notice,  these  things 
<'ire  nevertheless  so  common,  that  every  physician  must  regard  them  as  probable 
consequences  of  such  working  hours,  and  as  vouched  for  besides,  b}^  men  of  the 
Jiighest  medical  credibility.” 

That  factory  operatives  undergo  more  difficult  confinement  than  other  women, 
is  testified  to  by  several  midwives  and  accoucheurs,  and  also  that  they  are  more 
liable  to  miscarriage.®  Moreover,  they  suffer  from  the  general  enfeeblement 
common  to  all  operatives  and,  when  pregnant,  continue  to  work  in  the  factory 
üp  to  the  hour  of  delivery,  because  otherwise  they  lose  their  w’ages  and  are  made  to 
fear  that  they  may  be  replaced  if  they  stop  away  too  soon.  It  frequently  happens 
that  women  are  at  work  one  evening  and  delivered  the  next  morning,  and  the 
case  is  none  too  rare  of  their  being  delivered  in  the  factory  among  the  machinery. 
And  if  the  gentlemen  of  the  bourgeoisie  find  nothing  particularly  shocking  in 
this,  their  wives  will  perhaps  admit  that  it  is  a piece  of  cruelty,  an  infamous  act 
of  barbarism,  indirectly  to  force  a pregnant  woman  to  work  twelve  or  thirteen 
hours  daily  (formerly  still  longer),  up  to  the  day  of  her  delivery,  in  a Standing 
Position,  with  frequent  stoopings.  But  this  is  not  all.  If  these  women  are  not 
obliged  to  resume  work  within  two  weeks,  they  are  thankful  and  count  them- 
selves  fortunate.  Many  come  back  to  the  factory  after  eight,  and  even  after 
three  to  fcur  da5's,  to  resume  full  work.  I once  heard  a manufacturer  ask  an 
overlooker:  “ Is  so  and  so  not  back  yet?”  “No.”  “ How  long  since  she  was 

confined?”  “ A week.”  “ She  might  surely  have  been  back  long  ago.  That 
one,  over  there,  only  stays  three  days.”  Naturally,  fear  of  being  discharged, 
dreadof  starvation  drives  her  to  the  factory  in  spite  of  her  weakness,  in  defiance 
of  her  pain.  The  interest  of  the  manufacturer  will  not  brook  that  hisemployees 
stay  at  home  by  reason  of  illness;  they  must  not  be  ill,  they  must  not  venture  to 
lie  still  through  a long  confinement,  or  he  must  stop  his  machinery  or  trouble 
his  supreme  head  with  a temporary  change  of  arrangements;  and  rather  than  do 
this,  he  discharges  his  people  when  they  begin  to  be  ill,  Listen:** 

1.  Stuart  Evidence,  p.  loi. 

2.  Tufnell  “ 3, 9,  15. 

3.  Hawkins  Report,  p.  4;  Evidence,  p.  14,  etc.,  etc, 

Hawkins  Evidence,  pp,  ii,  13. 

4.  Cowell  Evidence,  p.  77. 


**  A girl  feels  very  ill,  can  scarcely  do  her  work.  Why  does  she  not  ask  pcr- 
mission  to  go  home?  Ah!  the  master  is  very  particular,  and  if  we  are  away  a 
half  a day,  we  risk  being  sent  away  altogether." 

Or  Sir  D.  Barry 

“ Thomas  McDurt,  workman,  has  slight  fever.  Cannot  stay  at  home  longer 
than  four  days,  because  he  would  fear  of  losing  his  place.” 

And  so  it  goes  in  almost  all  the  factories.  The  employment  of  young  girls 
produces  all  sorts  of  irregularities  during  the  period  of  development.  In  some, 
especially  those  who  are  better  fed,  the  heat  of  the  factories  hastens  this  process, 
so  that  in  single  cases  girls  of  thirteen  and  fourteen  are  wholly  mature.  Roberten 
whom  I have  already  cited  (mentioned  in  the  Factories  Inquiry  Com- 
mission’s  Report  as  the  “eminent”  gynsecologist  of  Manchester),  relates  in  the 
North  of  England  Medical  and  Surgical  Journal^  that  he  had  seen  a girl  of 
eleven  years  who  was  not  only  a wholly  develoj^ed  woman  but  pregnant,  and 
that  it  was  by  no  means  rare  in  Manchester  for  women  to  be  conhned  at  fifteen 
years  of  age.  In  such  cases,  the  influence  of  the  warmth  of  the  factories  is 
the  same  as  that  of  a tropical  climate,  and  as  in  such  climates,  the  abnormally 
early  development  revenges  itself  by  correspondingly  premature  age  and  de- 
bility.  On  the  other  hand,  retarded  development  of  the  female  Constitution 
occurs,  the  breasts  mature  late  or  not  at  all.^  Menstruation  hrst  appears  in  the 
seventeenth  or  eighteenth,  sometimes  in  the  twentieth  year,  and  is  often  wholly 
wanting.  ^ Irregulär  menstruation,  coupled  with  great  pain  and  numerous 
affections,  especially  with  ancemia,  is  very  frequent,  as  the  medical  reporls 
unanimously  state. 

Children  of  su:h  mothers,  particularly  of  those  who  are  obliged  to  work  during 
pregnancy,  cannot  be  vigorous.  They  are,  on  the  contrary,  described  in  the 
Report,  especially  in  Manchester,  as  very  feeble;  and  Barry  alone  asserts 
that  they  are  healthy,  but  says  farther,  that  in  Scotland,  where  his  inspection 
lay,  almost  no  married  women  worked  in  factories.  Moreover,  most  of  the 
factories  there  are  in  the  country,  (with  the  exception  of  Glasgow),  a circum- 
stance  which  contributes  greatly  to  the  invigoration  of  the  children.  The 
operatives’  children  in  the  neighborhood  of  Manchester  are  nearly  all  thriving 
and  rosy,  while  those  within  the  city  look  pale  and  scrophulous;  but  with  the 
ninth  5’’ear  the  color  vanishes  suddenly,  because  all  are  then  sent  into  the 
factories,  when  it  soon  becomes  impossible  to  distinguish  the  country  from  the 
city  children. 

But  besides  all  this,  there  are  some  branches  of  factory-work  which  have  an 
especially  injurious  effect.  In  many  rooms  of  the  cotton  and  flax  spinning  mills, 
the  air  is  filled  with  fibrous  dust,  which  produces  ehest  affections,  especially 
among  workers  in  the  carding  and  combing  rooms.  Some  constitutions  can  bear 
it,  some  cannot;  but  the  operative  has  no  choice.  Fle  must  take  the  room  in 

1.  Sir  D.  Barry  Evidence,  p.  44, 

2.  Cowell,  p.  35. 

3.  Dr.  Hawkins  Evidence,  p.  ii. 

Dr.  London,  p.  14,  etc. 

Sir  D.  Barry,  p.  5,  etc. 


HO 


vvhich  he  finds  work,  whether  his  ehest  is  sound  or  not.  The  most  -common 
effects  of  this  breathing  of  dust  are  blood-spitting,  hard,  noisy  breathing,  pains 
in  the  ehest,  coughs,  sleeplessness,  in  short  all  the  Symptoms  of  asthma  ending 
in  the  worst  cases  in  consumption.  ’ Especially  unwholesome  is  the  wet  spin- 
rnng  of  linen-yarn  which  is  carried  on  by  young  girls  and  boys.  The  water 
spirts  over  them  from  the  spindle,  so  that  the  front  of  their  clothing  is  constantly 
wet  through  to  the  skin;  and  there  is  always  water  Standing  on  the  floor.  This 
is  the  case  to  a less  degree  in  the  doubling  rooms  of  the  cotton  mills,  and  the 
result  is  a constant  succession  of  colds  and  affections  of  the  ehest.  A hoarse, 
rough  voice  is  common  to  all  operatives,  but  especially  to  wet  Spinners  and 
doublers.  Stuart,  Mackintosh  and  Sir  D.  Barry  express  themselves  in  the  most 
vigorous  terms  as  to  the  unwholesomeness  of  this  work,  and  the  small  considera- 
,tion  shown  by  most  of  the  manufacturers  for  the  health  of  the  girls  who  do  it. 
Another  effect  of  flax  spinning  is  a peculiar  deform ity  of  the  shoulder,  especially 
a projection  of  the  right  shoulder  blade,  consequent  upon  the  nature  of  the 
work.  This  sort  of  spinning  and  the  throttle-spinning  of  cotton  frequently  pro- 
duce  diseases  of  the  knee-pan  which  is  used  to  check  the  spindle  during  the 
joining  of  broken  threads.  The  frequent  stooping  and  the  bending  to  the  low 
machines  common  to  both  these  branches  of  work  have,  in  general,  a stuntieg 
effect  upon  the  growth  of  the  operative.  In  the  throstle  room  of  the  cotton  mill 
at  Manchester,  in  which  I was  employed,  I do  not  remember  to  have  seen  one 
single  tall,  well-built  girl;  they  were  all  short,  dumpy  and  badly  formed,  dc- 
cidedly  ugly  in  the  whole  development  of  the  figure.  But  apart  from  all  these 
diseases  and  malformations,  the  limbs  of  the  operatives  suffer  in  still  another 
way.  The  work  between  the  machinery  gives  rise  to  multitudes  of  accidents  of 
more  or  less  serious  nature,  which  have  for  the  operative  the  secondary  effect  of 
unfitting  him  for  his  work  more  or  less  completely.  The  most  common  accident 
is  the  squeezing  off  of  a single  joint  of  a finger,  somewhat  less  common  the  loss 
of  the  whole  finger,  half  or  a whole  hand,  an  arm,  etc.,  in  the  machinery. 
Lockjaw  very  often  follows,  even  upon  the  lesser  among  these  injuries,  and 
brings  death  wilh  it.  Besides  the  deformed  persons,  a great  number  of  maimed 
ones  may  be  seen  going  about  in  Manchester;  this  one  has  lost  an  arm  or  a part 
of  one,  that  one  a foot,  the  third  half  a leg.  it  is  like  living  in  the  midst  of  an 
army  just  returned  from  a campaign.  But  the  most  dangerous  portion  of  the 
machinery  is  the  strapping  which  conveys  motive  power  from  the  shaft  to  the 
separate  machines,  especially  if  it  contains  buckles,  which  however  are  rarely 
used  now.  Whoever  is  seized  by  the  strap  is  carried  up  with  lightning  speed, 
thrown  against  ceiling  above  and  floor  below  wdth  such  force  that  there  is  rarely 
a whole  bone  left  in  the  body,  and  death  follows  instantly.  Between  June  I2th 
and  August  3rd,  1843,  the  Manchester  Guardian  reported  the  following  serious 
accidents,  (the  trifling  ones  it  does  not  notice):  June  I2th,  a boy  died  in  Man- 

I.  Compare  Stuart,  pp.  13,  70,  loi;  Mackintosh,  p.  24.  etc.;  Power  Report  on  Nottingham,  on 
T.eeds;  Cowell,  p.  33,  etc.;  Barry,  p.  12;  (five  cases  in  one  factory),  p.  17,  44,  52,  60,  etc.;  Luu* 
dun,  p.  13. 


III 


ehester  of  lockjaw,  caused  by  his  hand  being  crushed  between  wheels.  June 
i6th,  a youth  in  Saddleworth  seized  by  a wheel  and  carried  away  with  it,  died, 
utterly  mangled.  June  29th,  a young  man  at  Green  Acres  Moor,  near  Man- 
chester, at  work  in  a machine  shop,  feil  under  the  grindstone,  which  broke  two 
of  his  ribs  and  lacerated  him  terribly.  July  24th,  a girl  in  Oldham  died,  carried 
around  fifty  times  by  a strap;  no  bone  unbroken.  July  27th,  a girl  in  Man- 
chester seized  by  the  blower,  (the  first  machine  that  receives  the  raw  cotton), 
and  died  of  injuries  received.  August  3rd,  a bobbins  turner  died  in  Dukenfield, 
caught  in  a strap,  every  rib  broken.  In  the  year  1843,  Manchester  In- 
firmary  treated  962  cases  of  wounds  and  mutilations  caused  by  machinery,  while 
the  number  of  all  other  accidents  within  the  district  of  the  hospital  was  2,426,  so 
that  of  five  accidents  from  all  other  causes,  two  were  caused  by  machinery.  The 
accidents  which  happened  in  Salford  are  not  included  here,  nor  those  treated  by 
surgeons  in  private  practice.  In  such  cases,  whether  or  not  the  accident  unfits 
the  victim  for  further  work,  the  employer  at  best  pays  the  doctor,  or  in  very  ex- 
ceptional  cases,  he  may  pay  wages  during  treatment;  what  becomes  of  the 
operative  afterwards  in  case  he  cannot  work,  is  no  concern  of  the  employer. 

The  Factory  Report  says  on  this  subject,  that  employers  must  be  made 
responsible  for  all  cases,  since  children  cannot  take  care  and  adults  will  take  care 
in  their  own  interest.  But  the  gentlemen  who  write  the  report  are  bourgeois, 
and  so  they  must  contradict  tkemselves  and  bring  up  later  all  sorts  of  bosh  on 
the  subject  of  the  culpable  temerity  of  the  operatives. 

The  state  of  the  case  is  this:  If  children  cannot  take  care,  the  employment 
of  children  must  be  forbidden.  If  adults  are  reckless,  they  must  be  mere  over- 
grown  children  on  a plane  of  Intelligence  which  does  not  enable  them  to 
appreciate  the  danger  in  its  full  scope;  and  who  is  to  blame  for  this  but  the 
bourgeoisie  which  keeps  them  in  a condition  in  which  their  intelligence  cannot 
develope?  Or  the  machinery  is  ill-arranged,  and  must  be  surrounded  with  fenc- 
ing  to  supply  which  falls  to  the  share  of  the  bourgeoisie.  Or  the  operative  is 
under  inducements  which  outweigh  the  threatened  danger;  he  must  work  rapidly 
to  earn  his  wages,  has  no  time  to  take  care,  and  for  this,  too,  the  bourgeoisie  is 
to  blame.  Many  accidents  happen,  for  instance,  while  the  operatives  are  clean- 
ing  machinery  in  motion.  Why  ? Because  the  bourgeois  would  otherwise  oblige 
the  worker  to  clean  the  machinery  during  the  free  hours  while  it  is  not  going, 
and  the  worker  naturally  is  not  disposed  to  sacrifice  any  part  of  his  free  time. 
Every  free  hour  is  so  precious  to  the  worker  that  he  often  risks  his  life  twice  a 
week  rather  than  sacrifice  one  of  them  to  the  bourgeois.  Let  the  employer  take 
from  working  hours  the  time  required  for  cleaning  the  machinery,  and  it  will 
never  again  occur  to  an  operative  to  clean  machinery  in  motion.  In  short,  from 
whatever  point  of  view,  the  blame  falls  ultimately  on  the  manufacturer,  and  of 
him  should  be  required  at  the  very  least,  life-long  support  of  the  incapacitated 
operative,  and  support  of  the  victim’s  family  in  case  death  follows  the  accident. 
In  the  earliest  period  of  manufacture,  the  accidents  were  much  more  numerous 
in  Proportion  than  now,  for  the  machinery  was  inferior,  smaller,  more  crowded, 


II2 


and  almost  never  fenced.  But  the  number  is  still  large  enough  as  the  fore- 
going  cases  prove  to  arouse  grave  question  as  to  a state  of  things  which  permits 
so  many  deformities  and  mutilations  for  the  benefit  of  a single  dass,  and  plunges 
so  many  industrious  working  people  into  want  and  starvation  by  reason  of 
injuries  iindergone  in  the  Service  and  through  the  fault  of  the  bourgeoisie. 

A pretty  list  of  diseases  engendered  purely  by  the  hateful  money  greed  of  the 
manufacturers!  Women  made  unfit  for  child-bearing,  children  deformed,  men 
enfeebled,  limbs  crushed,  whole  generations  wrecked,  afflicted  with  disease  and 
infirmity,  purely  to  fill  the  purses  of  the  bourgeoisie.  And  when  one  reads  of 
the  barbarism  of  single  cases,  how  children  are  seized  naked  in  bed  by  the  over- 
lookers,  and  driven  with  blows  and  kicks  to  the  factory,  their  clothing  over  their 
arms,  ^ how  their  sleepiness  is  driven  off  with  blows,  how  they  fall  asleep  over 
their  work  nevertheless,  how  one  poor  child  sprang  up,  still  asleep,  at  the  call  of 
the  overlooker,  and  mechanically  went  through  the  operations  of  its  work  after 
its  machine  was  stopped;  when  one  reads  how  children,  too  tired  to  go  home, 
hid  away  in  the  wool  in  the  drying-room  to  sleep  there,  and  could  only  be 
driven  out  of  the  factory  with  Straps;  how  many  hundreds  came  home  so  tired 
every  night,  that  they  could  eat  no  supper  for  sleepiness  and  want  of  appetite, 
that  their  parents  found  them  kneeling  by  the  bedside  where  they  had  fallen 
asleep  during  their  prayers;  when  one  reads  all  this  and  a hundred  other 
villanies  and  infamies  in  this  one  report,  all  testified  to  on  oath,  confirmed  by 
several  witnesses,  deposed  by  men  whom  the  commissioners  themselves  declare 
trustworthy;  when  one  reflects  that  this  is  a Liberal  Report,  a bourgeois  report, 
made  for  the  purpose  of  reversing  the  previous  Tory  report,  and  rehabilitating 
the  pureness  of  heart  of  the  manufacturers,  that  the  commissioners  themselves 
are  on  the  side  of  the  bourgeoisie,  and  report  all  these  things  against  their  own 
will,  how  can  one  be  otherwise  than  filled  with  wrath  and  resentment  against  a 
dass  which  boasts  of  philanthropy  and  self-sacrifice  while  its  one  object  is  to  fill 
its  purse  a tout  prix  ? Meanwhile,  let  us  listen  to  the  bourgeoisie  speaking 
through  the  mouth  of  its  chosen  apostle,  Dr.  Ure,  who  relates  in  his  Philosophy 
of  Manufachires'^  that  the  workers  have  been  told  that  their  wages  had  no 
relation  to  their  sacrifices,  the  good  understanding  between  masters  and  men 
being  thus  disturbed.  Instead  of  this,  the  workingmen  should  have  striven  to 
recommend  themselves  by  attention  and  industry,  and  should  have  rejoiced  in 
the  prosperity  of  their  masters.  They  would  then  become  overseers,  superin- 
tendents  and  finally  partners,  and  would  thus — (Oh!  Wisdom,  thou  speakest  as 
the  dove!) — “ have  increased  at  the  same  time  the  demand  for  their  companions’ 
labor  in  the  market!” 

“ Had  it  not  been  for  the  violent  collisions  and  interruptions  resulting  from 
erroneous  views  among  the  operatives,  the  factory  System  would  have  been  de- 
veloped  still  more  rapidly  and  beneficially.”'^ 

1.  Stuart,  p,  39. 

2.  Philosophy  of  Manufactures^  by  Dr.  Andrew  Ure,  p.  277,  et.  seq. 

3.  Ibid,  277. 


— II3  — 

Hereupon  follows  a long  Jercmiad  upon  the  Spirit  of  resistance  of  the  opera- 
tives, and  on  the  occasion  of  a strike  of  the  best  paid  workers,  the  fine  Spinners, 
the  following  naive  Observation  : ^ 

“ In  fact,  it  was  their  high  wages  w’hich  enabled  them  to  maintain  a stipendi- 
ary  committee  in  affluence,  and  to  pamper  themselves  into  nervous  ailments  by 
a diet  too  rieh  and  exciting  for  their  indoor  employments.” 

Let  US  hear  how  the  bourgeois  describes  the  work  of  children:* 

“I  have  visited  many  factories,  both  in  Manchester  and  in  the  surrounding 
districts,  during  a period  of  several  months,  entering  the  spinning-rooms  ur.- 
expectedly,  and  often  alone  at  different  times  of  the  day,  and  I never  saw  a 
single  instance  of  corporal  chastisement  inflicted  on  a child;  nor,  indeed,  did  I 
ever  see  children  in  ill  humor.  They  seemed  to  be  always  cheerful  and  alert, 
taking  pleasure  in  the  light  play  of  their  muscles,  enjoying  the  mobility  natural 
to  their  age.  The  scene  of  industry,  so  far  from  exciting  sad  emotions  in  my 
mind,  was  always  exhilarating.  It  was  delightful  to  observe  the  nimbleness 
with  which  they  pieced  broken  ends,  as  the  mule  carriage  began  to  recede  from 
the  fixed  roller  beam,  and  to  see  them  at  leisure,  after  a few  seconds’  exercise  of 
their  tiny  fingers,  to  amuse  themselves  in  any  attitude  they  chose,  tili  the  Stretch 
and  winding  on  were  once  more  completed.  The  work  of  these  lively  elves  seemed 
to  resemble  a sport,  in  which  habit  gave  them  a pleasing  dexterity.  Conscious 
of  their  skill,  they  were  delighted  to  show  it  off  to  any  stranger.  As  to 
exhaustion  by  the  day’s  work,  they  evinced  no  trace  of  it  on  emerging  from  the 
mill  in  the  evening;  for  they  immediately  began  to  skip  about  any  neighboring 
play-ground,  and  to  commence  their  little  games  with  the  same  alacrity  as  boys 
issuing  from  a school.” 

Naturally!  As  though  the  immediate  movement  of  every  muscle  were  not  an 
urgent  necessity  for  frames  grown  at  once  stiff  and  relaxed!  But  Ure  should 
have  waited  to  see  whether  this  momentary  excitement  had  not  subsided  after  a 
couple  of  minutes.  And  besides,  Ure  could  see  this  whole  performance  only  in 
the  afternoon  after  five  or  six  hours  work,  but  not  in  the  evening!  As  to  the 
health  of  the  operatives,  the  bourgeois  has  the  boundless  impndence  to  eite  the 
report  of  1833  just  quoted  in  a thousand  places,  as  testimony  for  the  excellent 
health  of  these  people;  to  try  to  prove  by  detached  and  garbled  quotations  that 
no  trace  of  scrophula  can  be  found  among  them  and,  what  is  quite  true,  that  the 
factory  System  frees  them  from  all  acute  diseases,  (that  they  have  every  variety 
of  chronic  affection  instead  he  naturally  conceals.)  To  explain  the  impudence 
with  which  our  friend  Ure  palms  off  the  grossest  falsehoods  upon  the  English 
public,  it  must  be  known  that  the  report  consists  of  three  large  folio  volumes, 
which  it  never  occurs  to  a well-fed  English  bourgeois  to  study  through.  Let  us 
hear  further  how  he  expresses  himself  as  to  the  Factor)"  Act  of  1834,  passed  by 
the  Liberal  bourgeoisie,  and  imposing  only  the  most  meagre  limitations  upon 
the  manufacturers,  as  w’e  shall  see.  This  law,  especially  its  compulsory  educa- 
lion  clause,  he  calls  an  absurd  and  despotic  measure  directed  against  the  manu- 
facturers; through  which  all  children  under  tvvelve  years  of  age  have  been  throw’n 
out  of  employment;  and  with  what  results?  The  children  thus  discharged 


1.  Ibid,  p.  298. 

2.  Ibid,  p.  301. 


from  their  light  and  useful  occupation  receive  no  education  whatsoever;  cast  out 
from  the  warm  spinning-room  into  a cold  world,  they  subsist  only  by  begging 
and  stealing,  a life  in  sad  contrast  with  their  steadily  improving  condition  in  the 
factory  and  in  Sunday  school.  Under  the  mask  of  philanthropy,  this  law  in- 
tensifies  the  ^ufferings  of  the  poor,  and  will  greatly  restrict  the  conscientious 
manufacturer  in  his  useful  work,  if  indeed  it  does  wholly  stop  him.  * 

The  ruinous  inflrence  of  the  factory  System  began  at  an  early  day  to  attract 
general  attention.  We  have  already  alluded  to  the  Apprentices’  Act  of  1802. 
Later,  towards  1817,  Robert  Owen,  then  a manufacturer  in  New  Lanark,  in 
Scotland,  afterwards  founder  of  English  Socialism,  began  to  call  the  attention 
of  the  Government,  by  memorials  and  petitions,  to  the  necessity  of  legislative 
guarantees  for  the  health  of  the  operatives,  and  especially  of  children.  The 
late  Sir  Robert  Peel  and  other  philanthropists  United  with  him,  and  gradually 
secured  the  Factory  Acts  of  1818,  1825  and  I83i,  of  which  the  first  two  were 
never  enforced,  and  the  last  only  here  and  there.  This  law  of  1831  based  upon 
the  motion  of  Sir  J.  C.  Hobhouse,  provided  that  in  cotton  mills  no  one  under 
twenty-one  should  be  employed  between  half-past  seven  at  night  and  half-past 
five  in  the  morning;  and  that  in  all  factories  young  persons  under  eighteen 
should  work  no  longer  than  twelve  hours  daily  and  nine  hours  on  Saturday. 
But  since  operatives  could  not  testify  against  their  masters  without  being  dis- 
charged,  this  law  helped  matters  very  little.  In  the  great  cities  where  the 
operatives  were  more  restive,  the  larger  manufacturers  came  to  an  agreement 
among  themselves  to  obey  the  law;  but  even  there,  there  were  many  who,  like 
the  employers  in  the  country,  did  not  trouble  themselves  about  it.  Meanwhile, 
the  demand  for  a ten-hour  law  had  become  lively  among  the  operatives;  that  is, 
for  a law  which  should  forbid  all  operatives  under  eighteen  years  of  age  to  work 
longer  than  ten  hours  daily;  the  Trades  Unions,  by  their  agitation,  made  this 
demand  general  throughout  the  manufacturing  population;  the  philanthropic 
section  of  the  Tory  Party,  then  led  by  Michael  Sadler,  seized  upon  the  plan, 
and  brought  it  before  Parliament.  Sadler  obtained  a Parliamentary  committee 
for  the  Investigation  of  the  factory  System,  and  this  committee  reported  in  1832. 
Its  report  was  emphatically  partisan,  composed  by  strong  enemies  of  the  factory 
System,  for  party  ends.  Sadler  permitted  himself  to  be  betrayed  by  his  noble 
enthusiasm  into  the  most  distorted  and  erroneous  Statements,  drew  from  his  wit- 
nesses  by  the  very  form  of  his  questions,  answers  which  contained  the  truth, 
but  truth  in  a perverted  form.  The  manufacturers  themselves,  incensed  at  a 
report  which  represented  them  as  monsters,  now  demanded  an  official  investi- 
gation;  they  knew  that  an  exact  report  must  in  this  case  be  advantageous  to 
them;  they  knew  that  Whigs,  genuine  bourgeois,  were  at  the  heim,  with  whom 
they  were  upon  good  terms,  whose  principles  were  opposed  to  any  restriction 
upon  manufacture.  They  obtained  a commission,  in  due  Order,  composed  of 
Liberal  bourgeois,  whose  report  I have  so  often  cited.  This  comes  somewhat 
nearer  the  truth  than  Sadler’s,  but  its  deviations  therefrom  are  in  the  opposite 

I.  Dr.  Andrew  Ure,  Philosophy  of  Manufaciures,  pp.  405,  406,  et.  seq. 


direction.  On  every  page  it  betrays  sympathy  with  the  manufactiirers,  distrust 
of  the  Sadlcr  report,  repugnance  to  the  workingmen  agitating  independently 
and  the  supporters  of  the  ten-hour  bill.  It  nowhere  recognizes  the  right  of  the 
workingman  to  a life  worthy  of  a human  being,  to  independent  activity,  and 
opinions  of  his  own.  It  reproaches  the  operatives  that  in  sustaining  the 
Ten-Hour  Bill  they  thought,  not  of  the  children  only,  but  of  themselves  as 
well;  it  calls  the  workingmen  engaged  in  the  agitation  demagogues,  ili-inten- 
tioned,  malicious,  etc.,  is  written,  in  short,  on  the  side  of  the  bourgeoisie;  and 
still  it  cannot  whitewash  the  manufacturers,  and  still  it  leaves  such  a mass  of 
infamies  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  employers,  that  even  after  this  report,  the 
agitation  for  the  ten-hour  bill,  the  hatred  against  the  manufacturers,  and  the 
committee’s  severest  epithets  applied  to  them  are  all  fully  justified.  But  there 
was  the  one  difference,  that  whereas  the  Sadler  report  accuses  the  manufacturers 
of  open,  undisguised  brutality,  it  now  became  evident  that  this  brutality  was 
chiefly  carried  on  under  the  mask  of  civilization  and  humanity.  Yet  Dr.  Haw- 
kins,  the  medical  commissioner  for  Lancashire,  expresses  himself  decidedly  in 
favor  of  the  Ten-Hour  Bill  in  the  opening  lines  of  his  report,  and  Commissioner 
Mackintosh  cxplains  that  his  own  report  does  not  contain  the  whole  truth, 
because  it  is  very  difficult  to  induce  the  operatives  to  testify  against  tneir 
employers,  and  because  the  manufacturers,  besides  being  forced  into  greater 
concessions  towards  their  operatives  by  the  excitement  among  the  latter,  are 
often  prepared  for  the  inspection  of  the  factories,  have  them  swept,  the  speed  of 
the  machinery  reduced,  etc.  In  Lancashire  especially,  they  resorted  to  the 
device  of  bringing  the  overlookers  of  work-rooms  before  the  commissioners  and 
letting  them  testify  as  workingmen  to  the  humanity  of  the  employers,  the  whole- 
some  effects  of  the  work,  and  the  indifference,  if  not  the  hostility  of  the  opera- 
tives towards  the  Ten  Hours  Bill.  But  these  are  no  genuine  working- 
men; they  are  deserters  from  their  dass,  who  have  entered  the  Service  of  the 
bourgeoisie  for  better  pay,  and  fight  in  the  interests  of  the  capitalists  against  the 
workers.  Their  interest  is  that  of  the  capitalists,  and  they  are,  therefore,  almost 
more  hated  by  the  workers  than  the  manufacturers  themselves.  And  yet  this 
report  suffices  wholly  to  exhibit  the  most  shameful  recklessness  of  the  manufac- 
turing  bourgeoisie  towards  its  employees,  the  whole  infamy  of  the  industrial 
exploiting  System  in  its  full  inhumanity.  Nothing  is  more  revolting  than  to 
compare  the  long  register  of  diseases  and  deformities  engendered  by  overwork, 
in  this  report,  with  the  cold,  calculating  Political  P^conomy  of  the  man- 
ufacturers by  which  they  try  to  prove  that  they,  and  with  them  all  England, 
must  go  to  ruin,  if  they  should  be  forbidden  to  cripple  so  and  so  many  children 
every  year.  The  language  of  Dr.  Ure  alone,  which  I have  quoted,  would  be 
yet  more  revolting  if  it  were  not  so  preposterous. 

The  result  of  this  report  was  the  Factory  Act  of  1834,  which  forbade  the  em- 
ployment  of  children  under  nine  years  of  age,  (except  in  silk  mills),  limited  the 
working  hours  of  children  between  9 — 13  years  to  48  per  week,  or  9 hours 
in  any  one  day,  at  the  utmost;  that  of  young  persons  from  14—18  years 


— ii6  — 

of  age  to  69  per  week,  or  12  on  any  one  day  as  the  maximum,  provided 
for  an  hour  and  a half  as  the  minimum  interval  for  meals,  and  repeaied  the  total 
Prohibition  of  night- work  for  persons  under  eighteen  years  of  age.  Compuisory 
school  attendance  two  hours  daily  was  prescribed  for  all  children  under  fourteen 
years,  and  the  manufacturer  declared  punishable  in  case  of  employing  children 
without  a certificate  of  age  from  the  factory  physician  and  a certificate  of  school 
attendance  from  the  teacher.  As  recompense,  the  employer  was  peimitted  10 
withdraw  one  penny  from  the  child’s  weekly  earnings  to  pay  the  teacher. 
Further,  surgeons  and  inspectors  were  appointed  to  visit  the  factories  at  all 
times,  take  testimony  of  operatives  on  oaths,  and  enforce  the  law  by  prosecution 
before  a justice  of  the  peace.  This  is  the  law  against  which  Dr.  Ure  inveighs 
in  such  unmeasured  terms! 

The  consequence  of  this  law,  and  especially  of  the  appointment  of  inspectors, 
was  the  reduction  of  working  hours  to  an  average  of  twelve  to  thirte'en,  and  the 
superseding  of  children  as  far  as  possible.  Hereupon  some  of  the  most  crying 
evils  disappeared  almost  wholly.  Deformities  arose  now  only  in  cases  of  weak 
Constitution,  and  the  effects  of  overwork  became  much  less  conspicuous.  Never- 
theless,  enough  testimony  remains  to  be  found  in  the  Factory  Report,  that  the 
lesser  evils.  swelling  of  the  ankles,  weakness  and  pain  in  the  legs,  hips  and  back, 
varicose  veins,  ulcers  on  the  lower  extremities,  general  weakness,  especially  of 
the  pelvic  regions,  nausea,  want  of  appetite  alternating  with  unnatural  hunger, 
indigestion,  hypochondria,  affections  of  the  ehest  in  consequence  of  the  dust  and 
foul  atmosphere  of  the  factories,  etc.,  etc.,  all  occur  among  employes  subject 
to  the  provisions  of  Sir  J.  C.  Hobhouse’s  law  (of  1831),  which  prescribes  twelve 
to  thirteen  hours  as  the  maximum.  The  reports  of  Glasgow  and  Manchester  are 
especially  worthy  of  attention  in  this  respect.  These  evils  remained,  too,  after 
the  law  of  1834,  and  continue  to  undermine  the  health  of  the  working  dass  to 
this  day.  Care  has  been  taken  to  give  the  brutal  profit-greed  of  the  bourgeoisie 
a hypocritical,  civilized  form,  to  restrain  the  manufaefurers  through  the  arm  of 
the  law  from  too  conspicuous  villanies,  and  thiis  to  give  them  a pretext  for 
parading  seif  complacently  their  sham  philanthropy.  That  is  all.  If  a new 
Commission  were  appointed  to-day,  it  would  find  things  pretty  much  as  before. 
As  to  the  extemporized  compuisory  attendance  at  school,  it  remained  wholly  a 
dead  letter,  since  the  government  failed  to  provide  good  schools.  The  manu- 
facturers  employed  as  teachers  worn  out  operatives  to  whom  they  sent  the  chil- 
dren two  hours  daily,  thus  complying  with  the  letter  of  the  law;  but  the  children 
learned  nothing.  And  even  the  reports  of  the  factory  inspectors  which  are 
limited  to  the  scope  of  the  inspectors  duties,  i.  e.,  the  enforcement  of  the  Fac- 
tory Act,  give  data  enough  to  justify  the  conclusion  that  the  old  evils  inevitably 
remain.  Inspectors  Horner  and  Saunders  in  their  reports  for  October  and 
December,  1844,  state  that,  in  a number  of  branches  in  which  the  employment 
of  children  can  be  dispensed  with  or  superseded  by  that  of  adults,  the  working 
day  is  still  fourteen  to  sixteen  hours,  or  even  longer.  Among  the  operatives  in 
these  branches,  they  found  numbers  of  young  people  who  had  just  outgrown  the 


provisions  of  the  law.  Many  employers  disregard  the  law,  shorten  the  free 
hours,  work  children  longer  ihan  is  permitted,  and  risk  prosecution,  knowing 
that  the  possible  fines  are  trifling  in  comparison  with  the  certain  profits  derivable 
from  the  offence.  Just  at  present  especially,  while  business  is  exceptionally 
brisk,  they  are  under  great  temptation  in  this  respect. 

Meanwhile  the  agitation  for  the  Ten  Hours  Bill  by  no  means  died  out  among 
the  operatives^  in  1839  under  full  headway  once  more,  and  Sadler’s  place, 

he  having  died,  was  filled  in  the  House  of  Commons  by  Lord  Ashley^  and 
Richard  Oastler,  both  Tories.  Oasller  especially,  who  carried  on  a constant 
agitation  in  the  factory  districts,  and  had  been  active  in  the  same  way  during 
Sadler’s  life,  was  the  particular  favorite  of  the  workingmen.  They  called  him 
their  “good  old  king,”  “the  king  of  the  factory  children,”  and  there  is  not  a 
child  in  the  factory  districts  that  does  not  know  and  revere  him,  that  does  not 
join  the  procession  which  moves  to  welcome  him  when  he  enters  a town.  Oastler 
vigorously  opposed  the  New  Poor  Law  also,  and  was  therefore  imprisoned  for 
debt  by  a Mr,  Thornley,  on  whose  estate  he  was  employed  as  agent,  and  to 
whom  he  owed  money.  The  Whigs  offered  repeatedly  to  pay  his  debt  and  con- 
fer other  favors  upon  him  if  he  would  only  give  up  his  agitation  against  the  Poor 
Law.  But  in  vain;  he  remained  in  prison,  whence  he  published  his  Fleet  Papers 
-against  the  factory  System  and  the  Poor  Law. 

The  Tory  government  of  1841  turned  its  attention  once  more  to  the  Factory 
Acts.  The  Home  Secretary,  Sir  James  Graham,  proposed  in  1843,  a bill 
restricting  the  working  hours  of  children  to  six  and  one-half,  and  making  the 
enactments  for  compulsory  school  attendance  more  effective;  the  principal  point 
in  this  Connection  being  a provision  for  better  schoo.s.  This  bill  was,  however, 
wrecked  by  the  jealousy  of  the  dissenters;  for,  although  compulsory  religious 
Instruction  was  not  extended  to  the  children  of  dissenters,  the  schools  provided 
for  were  to  be  placed  under  the  general  supervision  of  the  established  Church, 
and  the  Bible  made  the  general  reading  book;  religion  being  thus  made  the 
foundation  of  all  instruction,  whence  the  dissenters  feit  themselves  threatened. 
The  manufacturers  and  the  Liberais  generally  united  with  them,  the  working- 
men were  divided  by  the  church  queslion,  and  therefore  inactive.  The 
opponents  of  the  bill,  though  outweighed  in  the  great  manufacturing  towns, 
such  as  Salford  and  Stockport,  and  able  in  others,  such  as  Manchester,  to  attack 
certain  of  its  points  only,  for  fear  of  the  workingmen,  collected  nevertheless, 
nearly  two  million  signatures  for  a petition  against  it,  and  Graham  allowed  him- 
self  to  be  so  far  intimidated  as  to  withdraw  the  whole  bill.  The  next  year  he 
omitted  the  school  clauses,  and  proposed  that  instead  of  the  previous  provisions, 
children  between  eight  and  thirteen  years  should  be  restricted  to  six  and  one-half 
hours,  and  so  employed  as  to  have  either  the  whole  morning  or  the  whole  after- 
noon  free;  that  young  people  between  thirteen  and  eighteen  years  and  all  females 
should  be  limited  to  twelve  hours;  and  that  the  hitherto  frequent  evasions  of  the 
law  should  be  prevented.  Hardly  had  he  proposed  this  bill,  when  the  ten  hours 

I.  Afterwards  Earl  of  Shaftesbury,  died  1885. 


ii8  — • 

agitation  was  begun  again  more  vigoroiisly  than  ever.  Oastler  had  just  then 
regained  bis  liberty;  a number  o£  bis  friends  and  a Collection  among  tbe  work- 
ers  had  paid  bis  debt,  and  he  threw  himself  into  tbe  movement  with  all  bis  might. 
The  defenders  of  tbe  Ten  Hours  Bill  in  tbe  House  of  Commons  bad  increased  in 
numbers,  tbe  masses  of  petitions  supporting  it  which  poured  in  from  all  sides, 
brougbt  them  allies,  and  on  March  igtb,  1844,  Lord  Asbley  carried,  with  a 
majority  of  179  to  170,  a resolution  that  tbe  word  “ Night  ” in  tbe  Factory  Act 
should  express  tbe  time  from  six  at  night  to  six  in  tbe  morning,  whereby  the 
Prohibition  of  night  work  came  to  mean  the  limitation  of  working  houri*  to 
twelve,  including  free  hours,  or  ten  hours  of  actual  work  a day.  But  tbe  min- 
istry  did  not  agree  to  this.  Sir  James  Graham  began  to  threaten  resignation 
from  the  Cabinet,  and  at  the  next  vote  on  the  bill  the  House  rejected  by  a small 
majority  both  ten  and  twelve  hours!  Graham  and  Peel  now  announced  that 
they  should  introduce  a new  bill,  and  that  if  this  failed  to  pass  they  should 
resign.  The  new  bill  was  exactly  the  old  Twelve  Hours  Bill  with  some  changes 
of  form,  and  the  same  House  of  Commons  which  had  rejected  the  principal 
points  of  this  bill  in  March,  now  swallowed  it  whole.  The  reason  of  this  was 
that  most  of  the  supporters  of  the  Ten  Hours  Bill  were  Tories  who  let  fall  the 
bill  rather  than  the  ministry;  but  be  the  motives  what  they  may,  the  House  of 
Commons  by  its  votes  upon  this  subject,  each  vote  reversing  the  last,  has 
brought  itself  into  the  greatest  contempt  among  all  the  workers,  and  proved 
most  brilliantly  the  Chartists’  assertion  of  the  necessity  of  its  reform.  Three 
members,  who  had  formerly  voted  against  the  ministry,  afterwards  voted  for  it 
and  rcsGued  it.  In  all  the  divisions,  the  bulk  of  the  Opposition  voted  for  and 
the  bulk  of  its  own  party  against  the  ministry.*  The  forgoing  propositions  of 
Graham  touching  the  employment  of  children  six  and  one-half  and  of  all  other 
operatives  twelve  hours  are  now  legislative  provisions,  and  by  them  and  by  the 
limitation  of  over-work  for  making  up  time  lost  through  breakdown  of  machinery 
or  insufhcient  water-power  by  reason  of  frost  or  drought,  a working  day  of  more 
than  twelve  hours  has  been  made  well  nigh  impossible.  There  remains,  how- 
ever,  no  doubt  that,  in  a very  short  time,  the  Ten  Hours  Bill  will  really  be 
adopted.  The  manufacturers  are  naturally  all  against  it,  there  are  perhaps  not 
ten  who  are  for  it;  they  have  used  every  honorable  and  dishonorable  means 
against  this  dreaded  measure,  but  with  no  other  result  than  that  of  drawing 
down  upon  them  the  ever  deepening  hatred  of  the  workingmen.  The  bill  will 
pass.  What  the  workingmen  will  do  they  can  do,  and  that  they  will  have  this 
bill  they  proved  last  spring.  The  economic  arguments  of  the  manufacturers  that 
a Ten  Hours  Bill  would  increase  the  cost  of  production  and  incapacitate  the 
English  producers  for  competition  in  foreign  markets,  and  that  wages  must  fall 
are  all  half  \xm^\  but  they  prove  nothing  except  this,  that  the  industrial  great - 
ness  of  England  can  be  maintained  only  through  the  barbarous  treatment  of  the 


* It  is  notorious  that  the  House  of  Commons  made  itself  ridiculous  a second  time  ln  the  same 
Session  in  the  same  way  on  the  Sugar  Question,  when  k first  voted  against  the  ministry  and  then 
for  it,  after  an  application  of  the  ministerial  whip. 


— irg  — 

operatives,  the  destruction  of  their  Health,  the  social,  phypical  and  mental  decay 
of  whole  generations.  Naturally,  if  the  Ten  Ilours  Bill  were  a final  measure, 
it  must  ruin  England:  biit  since  it  must  inevitably  bring  with  it  other  measures 
which  must  draw  England  into  a path  wholly  different  from  that  hitherto 
followcd,  it  can  only  prove  an  advance. 

Let  US  turn  to  another  side  of  the  factory  systcm  which  cannot  be 
remedied  by  legislative  provisions  so  easily  as  the  diseases  now  engendered  by  it. 
We  have  already  alluded  in  a general  way  to  the  nature  of  the  employment,  and 
enough  in  detail  to  be  able  to  draw  certain  inferences  from  the  facts  given.  The 
Supervision  of  machinery,  the  joining  of  broken  threads,  is  no  activity  which 
Claims  the  operative’s  thinking  powers,  yet  it  is  of  a sort  which  prevents  him 
from  occupying  his  mind  with  other  things.  We  have  seen,  too,  that  this  work 
affords  the  muscles  no  opportunity  for  physical  activity.  Thus  it  is,  properly 
speaking,  not  work,  but  tedium,  the  most  deadening,  wearing  process  conceiv- 
able.  The  operative  is  condemned  to  let  his  physical  and  mental  powe  s d cay 
in  this  utter  monotony,  it  is  his  mission  to  be  bored  every  day  and  all  day  long 
from  his  eighth  year.  Moreover,  he  must  not  take  a moment’s  rest;  the  engine 
moves  unceasingly;  the  wheels,  the  Straps,  the  spindles  hum  and  rattle  in  his 
ears  without  a pause,  and  if  he  tries  to  snatch  one  instant,  there  is  the  over- 
looker  at  his  back  with  the  book  of  fines.  This  condemnation  to  be  buried 
alive  in  the  mill,  to  give  constant  attention  to  the  tireless  machine  is  feit  as  the 
keenest  torture  by  the  operatives,  and  its  action  upon  mind  and  body  is  in  the 
long  riin  stunting  in  the  highest  degree.  There  is  no  better  means  of  inducing 
stupefaction  than  a period  of  factory  work,  and  if  the  operatives  have,  neverthe- 
less,  not  only  rescued  their  intelligence,  but  cultivated  and  sharpened  it  more 
than  other  workingmen,  they  have  found  this  possible,  only  in  rebellion  against 
their  fate  and  against  the  bourgeoisie,  the  sole  subject  on  which  undcr  all  cir- 
cumstances  they  can  think  and  feel  while  at  work.  Or  if  this  indignation 
against  the  bourgeoisie  does  not  become  the  supreme  passion  of  the  working- 
man,  the  inevitable  consequence  is  drunkenness  and  all  that  is  generally  called 
demoralization.  The  physical  ennervation  and  the  disease,  universal  in  con- 
sequence of  the  factory  System,  were  enough  to  induce  Commissioner  Hawkins 
to  attribute  this  demoralization  to  them  as  inevitable;  how  much  more  when 
mental  lassitude  is  added  to  them,  and  when  ihe  influences  already  mentioned 
which  tempt  every  workingman  to  demoralization,  make  themselves  feit  here 
too!  There  is  no  cause  for  surprise,  therefore,  that  in  the  manufacturing  towns 
especially,  drunkenness  and  sexual  excesses  have  reached  the  pitch  which  I have 
already  described.* 

♦ Let  US  hear  another  competent  jndge:  “ If  we  consider  the  example  of  the  Irish  in  Connec- 
tion with  the  ceaseless  toil  of  the  cotton  operative  dass,  we  shall  wonder  less  at  their  terrible 
demoralization.  Continuous  exhausting  toi!,  day  after  day,  yearafter  year,  is  not  calculated  to 
develope  the  intellectual  and  moral  capabilities  of  the  human  being.  The  wearisome  routine  of 
endless  drudgery,  in  which  the  same  mechanical  process  is  ever  repeat.  d,  is  like  the  torture  of 
Sissyphus;  the  bürden  of  toil,  like  the  rock,  is  ever  falling  back  upon  the  worn  out  drudge.  I he 
mind  attains  neither  knowledge  nor  the  power  of  thought  from  the  eternal  employment  of  the 
same  muscles.  The  intellect  dozes  off  in  dull  indolence,  but  the  coarser  part  of  our  nature 


120 


Further,  the  slavery  in  which  the  bourgeoisie  holds  the  Proletariat  chained,  is 
nowhere  more  conspicuous  than  in  the  factory  System.  Here  ends  all  freedom 
in  law  and  in  fact.  The  operative  must  be  in  the  mill  at  half-past  five  in  the 
morning;  if  he  comes  a couple  of  minutes  too  late,  he  is  fined;  if  he  comes  ten 
minutes  too  late,  he  is  not  let  in  until  breakfast  is  over  and  a quarter  of  the  day’s 
wages  is  withheld,  though  he  loses  only  two  and  one-half  hours  work  out  of 
twelve.  He  must  eat,  drink  and  sleep  at  command.  For  satisfying  the  most 
imperative  needs,  he  is  vouchsafed  the  least  possible  time  absolutely  required  by 
them.  Whether  his  dwelling  is  a half  hour  or  a whole  one  removed  from  the 
factory  does  not  concern  his  employer.  The  despotic  bell  calls  him  from  his 
bed,  his  breakfast,  his  dinner. 

What  a time  he  has  of  it,  too,  inside  the  factory!  Here  the  employer  is  abso- 
lute law-giver;  he  makes  regulations  at  will,  changes  and  adds  to  his  codex  at 
pleasure,  and  even  if  he  inserts  the  craziest  stuff,  the  courts  say  to  the  working- 
man:  “ You  were  your  own  master,  no  one  forced  you  to  agree  to  such  a con- 
tract  if  you  did  not  wish  to;  but  now  when  you  have  freely  entered  into  it,  you 
must  be  bound  by  it.  ” And  so  the  workingman  only  gets  into  the  bargain  the 
mockery  of  the  Justice  of  the  Peace  who  is  a bourgeois  himself,  and  of  the  law 
which  is  made  by  the  bourgeoisie.  Such  decisions  have  been  given  often  enough. 
In  October,  1844,  the  operatives  of  Kennedy’s  mill,  in  Manchester,  struck. 
Kennedy  prosecuted  them  on  the  strength  of  a regulation  placarded  in  the  mill, 
that  at  no  time  more  than  two  operatives  in  one  room  may  quit  work  at  once. 
And  the  court  decided  in  his  favor,  giving  the  workingmen  the  explanation  cited 
above.^  And  such  rules  as  these  usually  are!  For  instance:  i.)  The  doors 
are  closed  ten  minutes  after  work  begins,  and  thereafter  no  one  is  admitted  until 
the  breakfast  hour;  whoever  is  absent  during  this  time  forfeits  3d.  per  loom.  2.) 
Every  power-loom  weaver  detected  absenting  himself  at  another  time,  while  the 
machinery  is  in  motion,  forfeits  for  each  hour  and  each  loom,  3d.  Every  person 
who  leaves  the  room  during  working  hours,  without  obtaining  permission  from 
the  overlooker,  forfeits  3d.  3.)  Weavers  who  fail  to  supply  themselves  with 

scissors  forfeit,  per  day,  id.  4.)  All  broken  shuttles,  brushes,  oil  cans,  wheels, 
window  panes,  etc.,  must  be  paid  for  by  the  weaver.  5.)  No  weaver  to  stop 
work  without  giving  a week’s  notice.  The  manufacturer  may  dismiss  any 
employe  without  notice  for  bad  w'ork  or  improper  behavior.  6.)’  Every  opera- 
tive detected  speaking  to  another,  singing  or  whistling,  will  be  fined  6d. ; for 
leaving  his  place  during  working  hours,  6d.^  Another  copy  of  factory  regula- 
tions lies  before  me,  according  to  which  every  operative  who  comes  three 

reaches  a luxuriant  development.  To  condemn  a human  being  to  such  work  isto  cultivate  the 
animal  quality  in  him.  He  grows  indifferent,  he  scorns  the  impulses  and  customs  which 
distinguish  his  kind.  He  neglects  the  conveniences  and  finer  pleasures  of  life,  lives  in  filthy 
poverty  with  ßcanty  nourishment,  and  squanders  the  rest  of  his  earnings  in  debauchery.  * 
Dr.J.  Kay. 

1,  Manchester  Guardian,  October  soth, 

2.  Stubborn  Facts,  p.  9,  et.  seq. 


121 


minutes  too  late,  forfeits  the  wages  for  a quarter  of  an  hour,  and  every  one  who 
comes  twe:dy  minutes  too  late  for  a quarter  of  a day.  Every  one  who  remains 
absent  until  breakfast  forfeits  a Shilling  on  Monday,  and  sixpence  every  other  day 
of  the  week,  etc.,  etc.  This  last  is  the  regulation  of  the  Phoenix  Works  in 
Jersey  Street,  Manchester.  It  may  be  said  that  such  rules  are  necessary  in  a 
great,  complicated  factory,  in  order  to  insure  the  harmonious  working  of  the 
different  parts;  it  may  be  asserted  that  such  a severe  discipline  is  as  necessary 
here  as  in  an  army.  This  may  be  so,  but  what  sort  of  a social  order  is  it  which 
cannot  be  maintained  without  such  shameful  tyranny  ? Either  the  end  sanctifies 
the  means,  or  the  inference  of  the  badness  of  the  end  from  the  badness  of  the 
means  is  justified.  Every  one  who  has  served  as  a soldier  knows  what  it  is  to  be 
subjected  even  for  a short  time  to  military  discipline.  But  these  operatives  are  con- 
demned  from  their  ninth  year  to  their  death  to  live  under  the  sword,  physically' 
and  mentally.  They  are  worse  slaves  than  the  negroes  in  America,  for  they 
are  more  sharply  watched,  and  yet  it  is  demanded  of  them  that  they  shall  live 
like  human  beings,  shall  think  and  feel  like  men!  Verily,  this  they  can  do  only 
linder  glowing  hatred  towards  their  oppressors,  and  towards  that  order  of  things 
which  places  them  in  such  a position,  which  degrades  them  to  machines.  But  it 
is  far  more  shameful  yet,  that  according  to  the  universal  testimony  of  the  ^ 
operatives,  numbers  of  manufacturers  collect  the  fines  imposed  upon  the  opera- 
tives with  the  most  heartless  severity,  and  for  the  purpose  of  piling  up  extra 
Profits  out  of  the  farthings  thus  extorted  from  the  impoverished  proletarians. 
Leach  asserts,  too,  that  the  operatives  often  find  the  factory  clock  moved  for- 
ward  a quarter  of  an  hour  and  the  doors  shut,  while  the  clerk  moves  about  with 
the  fines-book  inside,  noting  the  many  names  of  the  absentees.  Leach  Claims 
to  have  counted  ninety-five  operatives  thus  shut  out,  Standing  before  a factory, 
whose  clock  was  a .quarter  of  an  hour  slower  than  the  town  clocks  at  night,  and 
a quarter  of  an  hour  faster  in  the  morning.  The  Factory  Report  relates  similar 
facts.  In  one  factory  the  clock  was  set  back  during  w’orking  hours,  so  that  the 
operatives  worked  over-time  without  extra  pay;  in  another,  a whole  quarter  of 
an  hour  over-time  was  worked;  in  a third,  there  were  two  clocks,  an  ordinary 
one  and  a machine  clock,  which  registered  the  revolutions  of  the  main  shaft;  if 
the  machinery  went  slowly,  working  hours  were  measured  by  the  machine  clock 
until  the  number  of  revolutions  due  in  twelve  hours  was  reached;  if  work  went 
well,  so  that  the  number  was  reached  before  the  usual  working  hours  were 
ended,  the  operatives  were  forced  to  toil  on  to  the  end  of  the  twelfth  hour.  The 
witness  adds  that  he  had  known  girls  who  had  good  work  and  who  worked  over- 
time,  who,  nevertheless,  betook  themselves  to  a life  of  prostitution  rather  than 
submit  to  this  tyranny.'  To  return  to  the  fines,  Leach  relates  having  repeatedly 
seen  women  in  the  last  period'of  pregnancy  fined  6d.  for  the  offence  of  sitting 
down  a moment  to  rest.  Fines  for  bad  work  are  wholly  arbitrary;  the  goods 
are  examined  in  the  wareroom,  and  the  Supervisor  charges  the  fines  upon  a list 


I.  Drink  water  Evidcnce,  p.  80, 


122 


without  even  summoning  the  operative,  who  only  learns  that  he  has  been  fined 
when  the  overlooker  pays  his  wages  and  the  goods  have  perhaps  been  Sold,  or 
certainly  been  placed  beyond  his  reach.  Leach  has  in  his  possession  such  a 
fines  list,  ten  feet  long,  and  amounting  to  3SjC>t  I7sh.,  lod.  He  relates  that  in 
the  factory  where  this  list  was  made,  a new  Supervisor  was  dismissed  for 
fining  too  little,  and  so  bringing  in  five  pounds  too  little  weekly.  ^ And  I repeat 
that  I know  Leach  to  be  a thoroughly  trustworthy  man  incapable  of  a falsehood. 

But  the  operative  is  his  employer’s  slave  in  still  other  respects.  If  his  wife  or 
daughter  finds  favor  in  the  eyes  of  the  rieh  man,  a command,  a hint  suffices, 
and  she  must  place  herseif  at  his  disposal.  When  the  employer  wishes  to  sup- 
ply  with  signatures  a petition  in  favor  of  bourgeois  interests,  he  need  only 
send  it  to  his  mill.  If  he  wishes  to  decide  a Parliamentary  election,  he  sends 
his  enfranchised  operatives  in  rank  and  file  to  the  polls,  and  they  vote  for  the 
bourgeois  candidate  whether  they  will  or  no.  If  he  desires  a majority  in  a pub- 
lic meeting,  he  dismisses  them  a half  hour  earlier  than  usual,  and  secures  them 
places  dose  to  the  platform,  where  he  can  watch  them  to  his  satisfaction. 

Two  further  arrangements  contribute  especially  to  force  the  operative  under 
the  dominion  of  the  manufacturer;  the  Truck  systejn  and  the  Cottage  System. 
The  truck  System,  the  payment  of  the  operatives  in  goods,  was  lormeriy 
universal  in  England.  The  manufacturer  opens  a shop,  “for  the  convenience 
of  the  operatives,  and  to  protect  them  from  the  high  prices  of  the  petty  dealers.” 
Here  goods  of  all  sorts  are  sold  to  them  on  credit;  and  to  keep  the  operatives 
from  going  to  the  shops  where  they  could  get  their  goods  more  cheaply — the 
“ Tommy  shops  ” usually  charging  twenty-five  to  thirty  per  cent.  more  than 
others — wages  are  paid  in  requisitions  on  the  shop  instead  of  money.  The 
general  Indignation  against  this  infamous  System  led  to  the  passage  of  the  Truck 
Act  in  1831,  by  which,  for  most  employees,  payment  in  truck  Orders  was  declared 
void  and  illegal,  and  was  made  punishable  by  fine;  but,  like  most  other  English 
laws,  this  has  been  enforced  only  here  and  there.  In  the  towns  it  is  carried  out 
comparatively  efhciently;  but  in  the  country,  the  truck  System,  disguised  or  un- 
disguised,  flourishes.  In  the  town  of  Leicester,  too,  it  is  very  common.  There 
lie  before  me  nearly  a dozen  convictions  for  this  offence,  dating  from  the  period 
between  November,  1843,  and  June,  1844,  and  reported,  in  part,  in  the  Man- 
chester Guardia^i  and,  in  part,  in  the  Northern  Star.  The  System  is,  of  course, 
less  openly  carried  on  at  present;  wages  are  usually  paid  in  cash,  but  the 
employer  still  has  means  enough  at  command  to  force  him  to  purchase  his  wares 
in  the  truck  shop  and  nowhere  eise.  Hence  it  is  difficult  to  combat  the  truck 
System,  because  it  can  now  be  carried  on  under  cover  of  the  law,  provided  only 
that  the  operative  receives  his  wages  in  money.  The  Northern  Star  of  April 
27th,  1843,  publishes  a letter  from  an  operative  of  Holmfirth,  near  Hudders- 
field,  in  Yorkshire,  which  refers  to  a manufacturer  of  the  name  of  Bowers,  as 
follows,  (re-translated  from  the  German:) 

“ It  is  very  stränge  to  think  that  the  accursed  truck  System  should  exist  to 


2.  Stubborn  Facts,  p.  13-X7. 


123 


such  an  extent  as  it  does  in  Ilolmfirth,  and  nobody  be  fonnd  who  has  the  pluck 
to  make  the  manufacturers  stop  it.  There  are  here  a great  many  honest  hand- 
weavers  suffering  through  this  damned  System;  here  is  one  sample  from  a good 
many  out  of  the  noble-hearted  Free  Trade  Clique.  There  is  a manufacturer 
w’ho  has  upon  himself  the  curses  of  the  u hole  district  on  account  of  his  infamous 
conduct  towards  his  poor  weavers;  if  they  have  got  a piece  ready  which  comes 
to  34  or  36  Shillings,  he  gives  them  20s.  in  money  and  the  rest  in  cloth  or 
goous,  and  40  to  50  per  cent.  dearer  than  at  the  other  shops,  and  often  enough 
the  goods  are  rotten  into  the  bargain.  But,  what  says  the  Frte  Trade  Mercury^ 
the  Leeds  Mercury?  "J'hey  are  not  bound  to  take  them;  they  can  please  them- 
selves.  Oh,  yes,  but  they  must  take  them  or  eise  starve.  If  they  ask  for 
another  20s.  in  money,  they  must  wait  eight  or  fourteen  days  for  a warp;  but  if 
they  take  the  20s.  and  the  goods,  then  there  is  always  a warp  ready  for  them. 
And  that  is  Free  Trade.  Lord  Brougham  said  we  ought  to  put  by  something  in 
our  young  days,  so  that  we  need  not  go  to  the  parish  when  we  are  old.  Well, 
are  we  to  put  by  the  rotten  goods  ? If  this  did  not  come  from  a lord,  one  would 
say  his  brains  were  as  rotten  as  the  goods  that  our  work  is  paid  in.  When  the 
unstamped  papers  came  out  “illegally,”  there  was  a lot  of  them  to  report  it  to 
the  police  in  Holmfirth,  the  Blythes,  the  Edwards,  etc. ; but  where  are  they 
now?  But  this  is  different.  Our  truck  manufacturer  belongs  to  the  pious  Free 
Trade  lot;  he  goes  to  church  twice  every  Sunday,  and  repeats  devotedly  after 
the  parson:  We  have  left  undone  the  things  we  ought  to  have  done,  and  we 
have  done  the  things  we  ought  not  to  have  done,  and  there  is  no  good  in  us; 
but,  good  Lord,  deliver  us.  Yes,  deliver  us  tili  to-morrow,  and  we  will  pay  our 
weavers  again  in  rotten  goods.” 

The  Cottage  System  looks  much  more  innocent  and  arose  in  a much  more 
harmless  way,  though  it  has  the  same  enslaving  influence  upon  the  employe. 
In  the  neighborhood  of  the  mills  in  the  country,  there  is  often  a lack  of  d A^elling 
accommodations  for  the  operatives.  The  manufacturer  is  frequently  obliged  to 
tuild  such  dwellings  and  does  so  gladly,  as  they  yield  great  advantages,  besides 
the  interest  upon  the  Capital  invested.  If  any  owner  of  workingmen’s  dwellings 
averages  about  six  per  cent.  on  his  invested  Capital,  it  is  safe  lo  calculate  that 
the  manufacturer’s  cottages  yield  twice  this  rate;  for  so  long  as  his  factory  does 
not  stand  perfectly  idle  he  is  sure  of  occupants,  and  of  occupants  who  pay 
punctually.  Fle  is  therefore  spared  the  two  chief  disadvantages  under  which 
other  house-owners  labor;  his  cottages  never  stand  empty,  and  he  runs  no  risk. 
But  the  rent  of  the  cottages  is  as  high  as  though  these  disadvantages  were  in  full 
force,  and  by  obtaining  the  same  rent  as  the  ordinary  house-owner,  the  manu- 
facturer, at  cost  of  the  operatives,  makes  a brilliant  investment  at  twelve  to  four- 
teen per  cent.  For  it  is  clearly  unjust  that  he  should  make  twice  as  much  proflt 
as  other  competing  house-owners,  who  at  the  same  time  are  excluded  from  com- 
peting  with  him.  But  it  implies  a double  wrong,  when  he  draws  his  fixed  prolit 
from  the  pockets  of  the  non-possessing  dass,  which  must  consider  the  ex- 
penditure  of  every  penny.  He  is  used  to  that,  however,  he  whose  whole  wealth 
is  gained  at  the  cost  of  his  employees.  But  this  injustice  becomes  an  infamy 
when  the  manufacturer,  as  often  happens,  forces  his  operatives,  who  must  occupy 
his  houses  on  pain  of  dismissal,  to  pay  a higher  rent  than  the  ordinary  one,  or 
even  to  pay  rent  for  houses  in  which  they  do  not  live!  The  Halifax  Guardian^ 
quoted  by  the  Liberal  Sun^  asserts  that  hundreds  of  operatives  in  Ashton-under- 


124 


I.yne,  Oldham  and  Rochdale,  etc,,  are  forced  by  thelr  employers  to  pay  house- 
rent  whether  they  occupy  the  houses  or  not.  ^ The  cottage  System  is  universal 
in  the  country  districts;  it  has  created  whole  villages,  and  the  manufacturer 
usually  has  little  or  no  competition  agalnst  his  houses,  so  that  he  can  fix  his 
price  regardless  of  any  market  rate,  indeed  at  his  pleasure.  And  what  power 
does  the  cottage  System  give  the  employer  over  his  operatives  in  disagreements 
between  master  and  men  ! If  the  latter  strike,  he  need  only  give  them  notice  to 
quit  his  premises,  and  the  notice  need  only  be  a Aveek;  after  that  time  the  opera- 
tive is  not  only  without  bread  but  without  a shelter,  a vägabond  at  the  mercy  of 
the  law  which  sends  him,  without  fail,  to  the  treadmill. 

Such  is  the  factory  System  sketched  as  fully  as  my  space  permits,  and  with  as 
little  Partisan  spirit  as  the  heroic  deeds  of  the  bourgeoisie  against  the  defenceless 
workers  permit,  deeds  towaids  which  it  is  impossible  to  remain  indifferent, 
towards  which  indifference  were  a crime.  Let  us  compare  the  condition  of  the 
free  Englishman  of  1845  with  the  Saxon  serf  under  the  lash  of  the  Norman 
barons  of  1145.  The  serf  was  glebae  adscriptus,  boiind  to  the  soil,  so  is  the 
free  workingman  through  the  cottage  System.  The  serf  owed  his  master  the 
jus  primae  noctis,  the  right  of  the  first  night — the  free  workingman  must,  on 
demand,  surrender  to  his  master  not  only  that,  but  the  right  of  every  night. 
The  serf  could  acquire  no  property;  every thing  that  he  gained,  his  master  could 
take  from  him;  the  free  workingman  has  no  property,  can  gain  none  by  reason 
of  the  pressure  of  competition,  and  what  even  the  Norman  baron  did  not  do,  the 
modern  manufacturer  does.  Through  the  truck  System,  he  assumes  every  day 
the  administration  in  detail  of  the  things  which  the  worker  requires  for  his  im- 
mediate  necessities.  The  relation  of  the  lord  of  the  soil  to  the  serf  was  regu- 
lated  by  the  prevailing  customs  and  by  laws  which  were  obeyed,  because  they 
corresponded  to  them.  The  free  workingman 's  relation  to  his  master  is  regu- 
lated  by  laws  which  are  not  obeyed,  because  they  correspond  neither  with  the 
interests  of  the  employer  nor  with  the  prevailing  customs.  The  lord  of  the  soil 
could  not  separate  the  serf  from  the  land,  nor  seil  him  apart  from  it,  and  since 
almost  all  the  land  was  fief  and  there  was  no  Capital,  practically  could  not  seil 
him  at  all.  The  modern  bourgeoisie  forces  the  workingman  to  seil  himself. 
The  serf  was  the  slave  of  the  piece  of  land  on  which  he  was  born,  the  working- 
man is  the  slave  of  his  own  necessaries  of  life  and  of  the  money  with  which  he 
has  to  buy  them — both  are  slaves  of  a thing.  The  serf  had  a guaranty  for  the 
means  of  subsistence  in  the  feudal  Order  of  society  in  which  every  member  had 
his  own  place.  The  free  workingman  has  no  guaranty  whatsoever,  because  he 
has  a place  in  society  only  when  the  bourgeoisie  can  make  use  of  him;  in  all 
other  cases  he  is  ignored,  treated  as  a non-existent.  The  serf  sacrificed  him- 
self for  his  master  in  war,  the  factory  operative  in  peace.  The  lord  of  the  serf 
was  a barbarian  who  regarded  his  villain  as  a head  of  cattle;  the  employer  of 
operatives  is  civilized  and  regards  his  “hand”  as  a machine.  In  short,  the 


I.  Sun,  a London  daily;  end  of  November,  1844. 


125 


Position  of  the  two  is  not  far  from  equal,  and  if  either  is  at  a disadvantage,  it  is 
the  free  workingman.  Slaves  they  both  are,  with  the  single  difference  that  the 
slavery  of  the  one  is  undissembled,  open,  honest;  that  of  the  other  cunning,  sly, 
disguised,  deceitfully  concealed  from  himself  and  every  one  eise,  a hypocritical 
servitude  worse  than  the  old.  The  philanthropic  Tories  were  right  when  they 
gave  the  operatives  the  name  white  slaves.  But  the  hypocritical  disguised 
slavery  recognizes  the  right  to  freedom,  at  least  in  outward  form;  bows  before  a 
freedom-loving  public  opinion,  and  herein  lies  the  historic  progress  as  compared 
with  the  old  servitude,  that  the  pri^iciple  of  freedom  is  affirmed,  and  the 
oppressed  will  one  day  see  to  it  that  this  principle  is  carried  out.  ^ 


The  remaining  branches  of 

INDUSTRY. 


We  were  compelled  to  deal  with  the  factory  System  somewhat  at  length,  as  it 
is  an  entirely  novel  creation  of  the  industrial  period;  we  shall  be  able  to  treat  the 
other  workers  the  more  briefly,  because  what  has  been  said  either  of  the  indus- 
trial Proletariat  in  general,  or  of  the  factory  System  in  particular,  will  wholly,  or 
in  part,  apply  to  them.  We  shall,  therefore,  merely  have  to  record  how  far  the 
factory  System  has  succeeded  in  forcing  its  w^ay  into  each  brauch  of  industry,  and 
what  other  peculiarities  these  may  reveal. 

The  four  branches  compiised  under  the  Factory  Act  are  engaged  in  the  pro- 
duction  of  clothing  stuffs.  We  shall  do  best  if  we  deal  next  with  those  workers 
who  receive  their  materials  from  these  factories;  and,  first  of  all,  with  the  stock- 
ing  weavers  of  Nottingham,  Derby  and  Leicester.  Touching  these  workers, 
the  Children’s  Employment  Commission  reports  that  the  long  working  hours 
imposed  by  low  wages,  with  a sedentary  life  and  the  strain  upon  the  eyes 
involved  in  the  nature  of  the  employment,  usually  enfeeble  the  whole  frame,  and 
especially  the  eyes.  Work  at  night  is  impossible  without  a very  powerful  light 
produced  by  concentrating  the  rays  of  the  lamp,  making  them  pass  through  glass 
globes,  which  is  most  injurious  to  the  sight.  At  forty  years  of  age,  nearly  all 


1.  I have  nelther  time  nor  space  to  deal  in  detail  with  the  replies  of  the  manufacturers  to  the 
charges  made  against  them  for  twelve  years  past.  These  men  will  not  learn  because  their  supposed 
interest  blinds  them.  As,  morever,  many  of  their  objections  have  been  met  in  the  foregoing,  the 
following  is  all  that  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  add: 

You  come  to  Manchester,  you  wish  to  make  yourself  acquainted  with  the  state  of  affairs  in 
England.  You  naturally  have  good  introductions  to  respectab!e  people.  You  drop  a remark  or 
two  as  to  the  condition  of  the  workers.  You  are  made  acquainted  with  a couple  of  the  first  Liberal 
manufacturers,  Robert  Hyde  Greg,  perhaps,  Edmund  Ashworth,  Thomas  Ashton,  or  others. 
They  are  told  of  your  wishes.  The  manufacturer  understands  you,  knows  what  he  has  to  do.  He 
accompanies  you  to  his  factory  in  the  coiintry;  Mr.  Greg  to  Quarrybank  in  Cheshire,  Mr.  Ash- 
worth to  Turton  near  Bolton,  Mr.  Ashton  to  Hyde.  He  leads  you  through  a superb,  admirably 
arranged  building,  perhaps,  supplied  with  Ventilators,  he  calls  your  attention  to  the  lofty,  airy 
rooms,  the  fine  machinery,  here  and  there  a healthy-looking  operative.  He  gives  you  an  excellent 
lunch,  and  proposes  to  you  to  visit  the  operatives’  homes;  he  conducrs  you  to  the  cottages,  which 
look  new,  clean  and  neat,  and  goes  with  you  into  this  one  and  that  one,  naturally  only  to  over- 
lookers,  mechanics,  etc.,  so  that  you  may  see  “families  who  live  wholly  from  the  factory.”  Arnong 
other  families  you  might  find  that  only  wife  and  children  work,  and  the  husband  darns  stockings. 


126 


wear  spectacles.  The  children  employed  at  spooling  and  hemming,  usually 
suffer  grave  injuries  to  the  Health  and  Constitution.  They  work  from  the  sixth, 
seventh  or  eighth  year  ten  to  twelve  hours  daily  in  small,  dose  rooms.  It  is  not 
uncommon  for  them  to  fairit  at  their  work,  to  become  too  feeble  for  the  most 
ordinary  Household  occupation,  and  so  near-sighted  as  to  be  obliged  to  wear 
glasses  during  childhood.  Many  were  found  by  the  commissioners  to  exhibit  all 
the  Symptoms  of  a scrophulous  Constitution,  and  the  manufacturers  usually 
refuse  to  employ  giiis  who  have  worked  in  this  way,  as  being  too  weak.  The 
condition  of  these  children  is  characterized  as  “a  disgrace  to  a Christian 
country,”  and  the  wish  expressed  for  legislative  interference.  The  Factory 
Report^  adds  that  the  stocking  weavers  are  the  worst  paid  workers  in  Leicester, 
earning  six,  or  with  great  effort,  seven  Shillings  a week,  for  sixteen  to  eighteen 
hours’  daily  work.  Formerly  they  earned  twenty  to  twenty-one  Shillings,  but 
the  introduction  of  enlarged  frames  has  ruined  their  business;  the  great  majority 
still  work  with  old  small  single  frames,  and  compete  with  difficulty  with  the 
progress  of  machinery.  Here,  too,  every  progress  is  a disadvantage  for  the 
workers!  Nevertheless,  Commissioner  Power  speaks  of  the  pride  of  the  stocking 
weavers  that  they  are  free,  and  had  no  factory  bell  to  measure  out  the  time  for  their 
eating,  sleeping  and  working.  Their  position  to-day  is  not  better  than  in  1833, 
when  the  Factory  Commission  made  the  foregoing  Statements,  the  competition 
of  the  Saxon  stocking  weavers  who  have  scarcely  anything  to  eat,  takes  care  of 
that.  This  competition  is  too  stiong  for  the  English  in  nearly  all  foreign 
markets,  and  for  the  lower  qualities  of  goods  even  in  the  English  market.  It 
must  be  a source  of  rejoicing  for  the  patriotic  German  stocking  weaver  that  his 
starvation  wages  force  his  English  brother  to  starve  too!  And,  verily,  will  he 
not  starve  011,  proud  and  happy,  for  the  greater  glory  of  German  industry,  since 
the  honor  of  the  Fatherland  demands  the  t his  table  should  be  bare,  his  dish  half 
empty?  Ah!  It  is  a noble  thing,  this  competition,  this  “ race  of  the  nations.*’ 


The  presence  of  the  employer  keeps  you  from  asking  indiscreet  questions;  you  find  every  one 
well-paid,  comforlable,  comparatively  healthy  by  reason  of  the  country  air;  you  begin  to  be  con- 
verced  from  your  exaggerated  ideasof  misery  and  starvation.  But,  that  the  cottage  System  makes 
slaves  of  the  operatives,  that  there  may  be  a truck  shop  in  the  neighborbood,  that  the  people  hate 
the  manufacturer,  this  they  do  not  point  out  to  you,  because  he  is  present.  He  has  built  a school, 
church,  reading-room,  etc,  That  he  uses  the  school  to  train  children  to  Subordination,  that  he 
tolerates  in  the  reading-room  such  prints  only  as  represent  the  interests  of  the  bourgeoisie,  that  he 
dismisses  his  employees  if  they  read  Chartist  or  Socialist  papers  or  books,  this  is  all  concealed  from 
you.  You  see  an  easy,  patriarchal  relation,  you  see  the  life  of  the  overlookers,  you  see  what  the 
bourgeoisie  promises  the  workers  if  they  become  its  slaves,  mentally  and  morally.  This  “ country 
manufacture  ” has  always  been  what  the  employers  like  to  show,  because  in  it  the  disadvantages  of 
the  factory  System,  especially  from  the  point  of  view  of  health,  are,  in  part,  done  away  with  by  the 
free  air  and  surroundings,  and  because  the  patriarchal  servitude  of  the  workers  can  here  be  longest 
maintained.  Dr.  Ure  sings  a dithyramb  upon  the  theme.  But  woe  to  the  operatives  to  whom  it 
occurs  to  think  for  themselves  and  become  Chartists!  For  them  the  paternal  affection  of  the  manu- 
facturer comes  to  a sudden  end.  Further,  if  you  should  wish  to  be  accompanied  through  the  work- 
ing peoples’  quarters  of  Manchester,  if  you  should  desire  to  see  the  development  of  the  factory 
System  in  a factory  town,  you  may  wait  long  before  these  rieh  bourgeois  will  help  you!  These  gen- 
tlemen  do  not  know  in  what  condition  their  employees  are  nor  what  they  w'ant,  and  they  dare  not 
know  things  which  would  make  them  uneasy  or  even  oblige  them  to  act  in  Opposition  to  their  own 
interests.  But,  fortunately,  that  is  of  110  consequence;  what  the  workingmen  have  to  carry  out,  they 
carry  out  for  themselves, 

I.  Grainger  Report.  Appendix,  Part  I.,  p.  7,  15,  et.  seq.,  132 — 142. 


127 


In  the  Mo7’ning  Chronicle,  another  Liberal  sheet,  the  organ  of  the  bourgeoisie 
par  excellence,  there  were  published  some  letters  from  a stocking  weaver  in 
Hinckley,  describing  the  condition  of  his  fellow  workers.  Among  other  things, 
he  reports  50  families,  321  persons,  who  were  supported  by  109  frames;  each 
frame  yielded  on  ^ n average  5)4  Shillings;  each  family  earned  an  average  of  iis. 

4d.  weekly.  Out  of  this,  there  was  required  for  house-rent,  frame-rent,  fuel, 
light,  soap  and  needles,  together  5s.,  lod.,  so  that  there  remained  for  food,  per 
head  daily,  i)4d.,  and  for  clothing  nothing.  “No  eye,”  says  the  stocking 
weaver,  “ has  seen,  no  ear  heard,  and  no  heart  feit  the  half  of  the  sufferings 
that  these  poor  people  endure.”  Beds  were  wanting  either  wholly  or  in  part, 
the  children  ran  about  ragged  and  barefoot,  the  men  said  with  tears  in  their 
eyes:  “ It’s  a long  time  since  we  had  any  meat,  we  have  almost  forgotten  how 
it  tastes;”  and  finally,  some  of  them  worked  on  Sunday,  though  public  opinion 
pardons  anything  eise  more  readily  than  this,  and  the  rattling  noise  of  the  frame 
is  audible  throughout  the  neighborhood.  “ But,”  said  one  of  them,  “ look  at 
my  children  and  ask  no  questions.  My  poverty  forces  me  to  it;  I can’t  and 
won’t  hear  my  children  forever  crying  for  bread,  without  trying  the  last  means 
of  winning  it  honestly.  Last  Monday  I got  up  at  two  in  the  morning  and 
worked  to  near  midnight,  the  other  days  from  six  in  the  morning  to  between 
eleven  and  twelve  at  night.  I have  had  enough  of  it,  I shan’t  kill  myself,  so 
now  I go  to  bed  at  ten  o’clock  and  make  up  the  lost  time  on  Sundays.”  Neither 
in  Leicester,  Nottingham  nor  Derby  have  wages  risen  since  1833;  and  the  w^orst 
of  it  is  that  in  Leicester  the  truck  System  prevails  to  a great  extent,  as  I have 
mentioned.  It  is,  therefore,  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  weavers  of  this 
region  take  a very  active  part  in  all  w'orkingmen’s  movements,  the  more  active 
and  effective  because  the  frames  are  worked  chiefly  by  men. 

In  this  stocking  weaver’s  district,  the  lace  industry  also  has  its  headquarters. 
In  the  three  counties  mentioned,  there  are  in  all  2,760  lace  frames  in  use,  while 
in  all  the  rest  of  England  there  are  but  786.  The  manufacture  of  lace  is  greatly 
complicated  by  a rigid  division  of  labor,  and  embraces  a multitude  of  branches. 
The  yarn  is  first  spooled  by  girls  fourteen  years  of  age  and  upwards,  winders;  then 
the  spools  are  set  up  on  the  frames  by  boys  eight  years  old  and  upwards, 
threaders,  who  pass  the  thread  through  fine  openings  of  which  each  machine 
has  an  average  of  1,800,  and  bring  it  towards  its  destination;  then  the  weaver 
weaves  the  lace  which  comes  out  of  the  machine  like  a broad  piece  of  cloth  and 
is  taken  apart  by  very  little  children  who  draw  out  the  connecting  threads.  This 
is  called  running  or  drawing  lace,  and  the  children  themselves  lace-runners. 
The  lace  is  then  made  ready  for  sale.  The  winders,  like  the  threaders,  have  no 
specified  working  time,  being  called  upon  whenever  the  spools  on  a frame  are 
empty,  and  are  liable,  since  the  weavers  work  at  night,  to  be  required  at  any 
time  in  the  factory  or  work-room.  This  irregularity,  the  frequent  night  work, 
the  disorderly  way  of  living  consequent  upon  it,  engender  ■ a multitude  of 
physical  and  moral  ills,  especially  early  and  unbridled  sexual  license,  upon  which 
point  all  witnesses  are  unanimous.  The  work  is  very  bad  for  the  eyes,  and 


128 


although  a permanent  injury  in  the  case  of  the  threaders  is  not  universally 
observable,  inflammations  of  the  eye,  pain,  tears  and  momentary  uncertainty  of 
Vision  during  the  act  of  threading,  are  engendered.  For  the  winders,  however, 
it  is  certain  that  their  work  seriously  affects  the  eye,  and  produces  besides  the 
frequent  inflammations  of  the  cornea,  many  cases  of  amaurosis  and  cataract. 
The  'work  of  the  weavers  themselves  is  very  difflcult,  as  the  frames  have  con- 
stantly  been  made  wider,  until  those  now  in  use  are  almost  all  worked  by  three 
men,  in  turn,  each  working  eight  hours,  and  the  frame  being  kept  in  use  the 
whole  twenty-four.  Hence  it  is  that  the  winders  and  threaders  are  so  often 
called  upon  during  the  night,  and  must  work  to  prevent  the  frame  from  Standing 
idle.  The  filling  in  of  i,8oo  openings  with  thread  occupies  three  children  at 
least  two  hours.  Many  frames  are  moved  by  steam-power  and  the  work  of  men 
thus  superseded;  and,  as  the  Children’s  Employment  Commission’s  Report  men- 
tions  only  lace  factories  to  which  the  children  are  summoned,  it  seems  to  follow 
either  that  the  work  of  the  weavers  has  been  removed  to  great  factory  rooms  of 
late,  or  that  steam  weaving  has  become  pretty  general;  a forward  movement  of 
the  factory  System  in  either  case.  Most  unwholesome  of  all  is  the  work  of  the 
runners,  who  are  usually  children  of  seven  and  even  of  five  and  four  years  old. 
Commissioner  Grainger  actually  found  one  child  of  two  years  old  employed  at 
this  work.  Following  a thread  which  is  to  be  withdrawn  by  a needle  from  an 
intricate  texture,  is  very  bad  for  the  eyes,  especially  when,  as  is  usually  the  case, 
the  work  is  continued  fourteen  to  sixteen  hours.  In  the  least  unfavorable  case, 
aggravated  nearsightedness  follows;  in  the  worst  case,  which  is  frequent 
enough,  incurable  blindness  from  amaurosis.  But,  apart  from  that,  the  children, 
in  consequence  of  sitting  perpetually  bent  up,  become  feeble,  narrow-chested 
and  scrophulous  from  bad  digestion.  Disordered  functions  of  the  Uterus  are 
almost  universal  among  the  girls,  and  curvature  of  the  spine  also,  so  that  “all 
the  runners  may  be  recognized  from  their  gait.”  The  same  consequences  for  the 
eyes  and  the  whole  Constitution  are  produced  by  the  embroidery  of  lace. 
Medical  witnesses  are  unanimously  of  the  opinion  that  the  health  of  all  children 
employed  in  the  production  of  lace  suffers  seriously,  that  they  are  pale,  weak, 
delicate,  undersized,  and  much  less  able  than  other  children  to  resist  disease. 
The  affections  from  which  they  usually  suffer  are  general  debility,  frequent 
fainting,  pains  in  the  head,  sides,  back  and  hips,  palpitation  of  the  heart, 
nausea,  vomiting  and  want  of  appetite,  curvature  of  the  spine,  scrophula  and 
consumption.  The  health  of  the  female  lacemakers  especially,  is  constantly 
and  deeply  undermined,  complaints  are  universal  of  anaemia,  difflcult  childbirlh 
and  miscarriage.  ^ The  same  subordinate  offlcial  of  the  Children’s  Employment 
Commission  reports  further,  that  the  children  are  very  often  ill-clothed  and 
ragged,  and  receive  insufficient  food,  usually  only  bread  and  tea,  often  no  meat 
for  months  together.  As  to  their  moral  condition,  he  reports:^ 


I,  Grainger's  whole  Report. 

a.  Grainger  Children^s  Employment  Commission’s  Report. 


‘*A11  the  inhabitants  of  Nottingham,  the  police,  the  clergy,  the  manufac- 
turers,  the  working  people,  and  the  parents  of  the  children,  are  all  unanimously 
of  opinion  that  the  present  System  of  labor  is  a most  fruitful  source  of  im- 
morality.  The  threaders,  chiefly  boys,  and  the  winders,  usually  girls,  are  called 
foi  in  the  factory  at  the  same  time;  and  as  their  parents  cannot  know  how  long 
they  are  wanted  there,  they  have  the  finest  opportunity  to  form  improper  Con- 
nections and  remain  together  after  the  dose  of  the  work.  This  has  contributed, 
in  no  small  degree,  to  the  immorality  which,  according  to  general  opinion,  exists 
to  a terrible  extent  in  Nottingham.  Apart  from  this,  the  quiet  of  home  life  and 
the  comfort  of  the  families  to  which  these  children  and  young  people  belong  is 
wholly  sacrificed  to  this  most  unnatural  state  of  things.” 

Another  branch  of  lace  making,  bobbin-lacework,  is  carried  on  in  the  agricul- 
tural shires  of  Northampton,  Oxford  and  Bedford,  chiefly  by  children  and  young 
persons  who  complain  universally  of  bad  food,  and  rarely  taste  meat.  The  em- 
ployment  itself  is  most  unwholesome.  The  children  work  in  small,  ill-ven- 
tilated,  damp  rooms,  sitting  always  bent  over  the  lace  cushion.  To  Support  the 
body  in  this  wearying  position,  the  girls  wear  stays  with  a wooden  busk  which, 
at  the  tender  age  of  most  of  them,  when  the  bones  are  still  very  soft, 
wholly  displace  the  ribs  and  makes  narrow  chests  universal.  They  usually 
die  of  consumption  after  suffering  the  severest  forms  of  digestive  dis- 
orders,  brought  on  by  sedentary  work  in  a bad  atmosphere.  They  are  almost 
wholly  without  education,  least  of  all  do  they  receive  moral  training.  They  love 
finery,  and  in  consequence  of  these  two  influences  their  moral  condition  is  most 
deplorable,  and  prostitution  almost  epidemic  among  them.^ 

This  is  the  price  at  which  society  purchases  for  the  fine  ladies  of  the 
bourgeoisie  the  pleasure  of  wearing  lace;  a reasonable  price  truly!  Only  a few 
thousand  blind  workingmen,  some  consumptive  laborers’  daughters,  a sickly 
generation  of  the  vile  muititude  bequeathing  its  debility  to  its  equally  “vile” 
children  and  childrens’  children.  But  what  does  that  come  to?  Nothing, 
nothing  whatsoever.  Our  English  bourgeoisie  will  lay  the  report  of  the  Govern- 
ment Commission  aside,  indifferently,  and  wives  and  daughters  will  deck  them- 
selves  with  lace  as  before.  It  is  a beautiful  thing,  the  composure  of  an  English 
bourgeois. 

A great  number  of  operatives  are  employed  in  the  cotton-printing  establish- 
ments  of  Lancashire,  Derbyshire  and  the  West  of  Scotland.  In  no  branch  of 
English  industry  has  mechanical  ingenuity  produced  such  brilliant  results  as 
here,  but  in  no  other  has  it  so  crushed  the  workers.  The  application  of 
engraved  cylinders  driven  by  steam-power,  and  the  discovery  of  a method  of 
printing  four  to  six  colors  at  once  with  such  cylinders,  has  as  completely  super- 
seded  handwork  as  did  the  application  of  machinery  to  the  spinning  and  weav- 
ing  of  cotton,  and  these  new  arrangements  in  the  printing  works  have  superseded 
the  handworkers  much  more  than  was  the  case  in  the  production  of  the  fabrics. 
One  man,  with  the  assistance  of  one  child,  now  does  with  a machine  the  work 
done  formerly  by  200  block  printers;  a single  machine  yields  28  yards  of 


I.  Burns  Children’s  Employment  Commission’s  Report 


130 


printed  cloth  per  minute.  The  calico  printers  are  in  a very  bad  way  in  con- 
sequence;  the  shires  of  Lancaster,  Derby  and  Che-ster  produced,  (according  to  a 
Petition  of  the  printers  to  the  House  of  Commons)  in  the  year  1842.  eleven 
million  pieces  of  printed  cotton  goods;  of  these,  100,000  were  printed  by  hand 
exclusively,  goo,ooo  in  part  with  machinery  and  in  part  by  hand,  and  10,000,000 
by  machinery  alone,  with  four  to  six  colors.  As  the  machinery  is  chiefly  new 
and  undergoes  constant  improvement,  the  nnmber  of  hand-printers  is  far  too 
great  for  the  available  quantity  of  work,  and  many  of  them  are  therefore  starv- 
ing;  the  petition  puts  the  number  at  one-quarter  of  the  whole,  while  the 
rest'are  employed  but  one  or  two,  in  the  best  case  three  days  in  the  week,  and 
are  ill-paid.  Leach^  asserts  of  one  print  works,  (Deeply  Dale,  near  Bury,  in 
Lancashire),  that  the  hand-printers  did  not  earn  on  an  average  more  than  five 
Shillings,  though  he  knows  that  the  machine  printers  were  pretty  well  paid.  The 
print  works  are  thus  wholly  affiliated  with  the  factory  System,  but  without  being 
subject  to  the  legislative  restrictions  placed  upon  it.  They  produce  an  article 
subject  to  fashion,  and  have  therefore  no  regulär  work.  If  they  have  small 
Orders,  they  work  half  time;  if  they  make  a hit  with  a pattem,  and  business  is 
brisk,  they  work  twelve  hours,  perhaps  all  night.  In  the  neighborhood  of  my 
home,  near  Manchester,  there  was  a print  works  that  was  often  lighted  when  I 
returned  late  at  night;  and  I have  heard  that  the  children  were  obliged  at  times 
to  work  so  long  there,  that  they  would  try  to  catch  a moment’s  rest  and  sleep  on 
the  stone  steps  and  in  the  corners  of  the  lobby.  I have  no  legal  proof  of  the 
truth  of  the  Statement,  or  I should  name  the  firm.  The  Report  of  the 
Children's  Employment  Commission  is  very  cursory  upon  this  subject,  stating 
merely  that  in  England,  at  least,  the  children  are  mostly  pretty  well  clothed  and 
fed  (relatively,  according  to  the  wages  of  the  parents),  that  they  receive  no 
education  whatsoever,  and  are  morally  on  a low  plane.  It  is  only  necessary  to 
remember  that  these  children  are  subject  to  the  factory  System,  and  then,  refer- 
ring  the  reader  to  what  has  already  been  said  of  that,  we  can  pass  on. 

Of  the  remaining  workers  employed  in  the  manufacture  of  clothing  stuffs  little 
remains  to  be  said;  the  bleachers’  work  is  very  unwholesome,  obliging  them  to 
breathe  chlorine,  a gas  injurious  to  the  lungs.  The  work  of  the  dyers  is  in 
many  cases  very  healthful,  since  it  requires  the  exertion  of  the  whole  body;  how 
these  workers  are  paid  is  little  known,  and  this  is  ground  enough  for  the  infer- 
ence  that  they  do  not  receive  less  than  the  average  wages,  otherwise  they  would 
make  complaint.  The  fustian  cutters,  who  in  consequence  of  the  large  consump- 
tion  of  cotton  velvet,  are  comparatively  numerous,  being  estimated  at  from 
3,000  to  4,000,  have  suffered  very  severely,  indirectly,  from  the  influence  of  the 
factory  System.  The  goods,  formerly  woven  with  hand  looms,  were  not  per- 
fectly  uniform,  and  required  a practised  hand  in  cutting  the  single  rows  of 
threads.  Since  power  looms  have  been  used,  the  rows  run  regularly;  each 
thread  of  the  wool  is  exactly  parallel  with  the  preceding  one,  and  cutting  is  no 


I.  Stubborn  Facts  from  the  Factories,  p.  47. 


longer  an  art.  The  workers  thrown  out  of  employment  by  the  inlroduction  of 
machinery  turn  to  fustian  cutting,  and  force  down  wages  by  their  competition; 
the  manufacturers  discovered  that  they  could  employ  women  and  children,  and 
thc  wages  iank  to  the  rate  paid  them,  while  hundreds  of  men  were  thrown  out 
cf  employment.  The  manufacturers  found  that  they  could  get  the  work  done  in 
the  factory  itself  more  cheaply  than  in  the  cutter’s  work-room,  for  which  they 
indirectly  paid  the  rent.  Since  this  discovery,  the  low  upper-story  cutter’s 
rooms  stand  empty  in  many  a cottage  or  are  let  for  dwellings,  while  the  cutter 
has  lost  his  freedom  of  choice  of  his  working  hours  and  is  brought  under  the 
dominion  of  the  factory  bell.  A cutter  of  perhaps  forty-five  years  of  age  told 
me  that  he  could  remember  a time  when  he  had  received  8d.  a yard  for  work, 
for  which  he  now  received  id.;  true,  he  can  cut  the  more  regulär  texture  more 
quickly  than  the  old,  but  he  can  by  no  means  do  twice  as  much  in  an  hour  as 
formerly,  so  that  his  wages  have  sunk  to  less  than  a quarter  of  what  they  were. 
Leach’  gives  a list  of  wages  paid  in  1827  and  in  1843  various  goods,  from 
which  it  appears  that  articles  paid  in  1827  at  the  rates  of  qd.,  2^d.,  2^d.  and 
id.  per  yard,  were  paid  in  1843  at  the  rate  of  i^d.,  ^d.,  id.  and  ^d.  per  yard 
Cutters’  wages.  The  average  weekly  wage,  according  to  Leach,  was  as  follows: 
1827,  £1,  6s.,  6d. ; £1,  2s.,  6d. ; £i\ £1,  6s.,  6d. ; and  for  the  same  goods  in  1843, 
los.,  6d. ; 7s.,  6d.;  6s.,  8d. ; lOs.,  while  there  are  hundreds  of  workers  who 
cannot  find  employment  even  at  these  last  named  rates.  Of  the  handweavers  of 
the  cotton  induslry  we  have  already  spoken;  the  other  woven  fabrics  are  almost 
exclusively  produced  on  hand  looms.  Here  most  of  the  workers  have  suffered 
as  the  weavers  have  done  from  the  crowding  in  of  com.petitors  displaced  by 
machinery,  and  are  moreover  subject  like  the  factory  operatives  to  a severe  fine 
System  for  bad  work.  Take,  for  instance,  the  silk  weavers.  Mr.  Brocklehurst, 
one  of  the  largest  silk  manufacturers  in  ail  England,  laid  before  a committee 
of  members  of  Parliament  lists  taken  from  his  books,  from  which  it  appears  that 
for  goods  for  which  he  paid  wages  in  1821,  at  the  rate  of  30s.,  14s.,  3^s.,  ^s., 
i^s.,  lOs.,  he  paid  in  1839  but  9s.,  2%?,.,  *^s.,  >^s.,  b^s.,  while  in  this 

case,  no  improvement  in  the  machinery  has  taken  place.  But  what  Mr. 
Brocklehurst  does  may  very  well  be  taken  as  a Standard  for  all.  From  the  same 
lists  it  appears  that  the  average  weekly  wage  of  his  weavers  after  all  deductions 
was,  in  1821,  i6^sh.,  and  in  1831  but  6s.  Since  that  time  wages  have  fallen 
still  further.  Goods,  which  brought  in  4d.  weavers’  wages  in  1831,  bring  in 
but  2^d.  in  1843,  (single  sarsnets),  and  a great  number  of  weavers  in  the 
country  can  get  work  only  when  they  undertake  these  goods  at  1% — 2d.  },Iore- 
over,  they  are  subject  to  arbitrary  deductions  from  their  wages.  Every  weaver 
who  receives  materials  is  given  a card,  on  which  is  usually  to  be  read  that  the 
work  is  to  be  returned  at  a specified  hour  of  the  day;  that  a weaver  who  cannot 
work  by  reason  of  illness  must  make  the  fact  known  at  the  office  within  three 
days,  or  sickness  will  not  be  regarded  as  an  excuse;  that  it  will  not  be  regarded 


I.  Leach,  Slubborn  Facts  from  the  Factories,  p.  35. 


132 


as  a sufficient  excuse  if  the  weaver  Claims  to  have  been  obliged  to  wait  for  yarn; 
that  for  certain  faults  in  the  work  (if,  for  example,  more  wool-threads  are  found 
within  a given  space  than  are  prescribed),  not  less  than  half  the  wages  will  be 
deducted;  and  that  if  the  goods  should  not  be  ready  at  the  time  specified,  one 
penny  will  be  deducted  for  every  yard  returned.  The  deductions  in  accordance 
with  these  cards  are  so  considerable  that,  for  instance,  a man  who  comes  twice 
a week  to  Leigh,  in  Lancashire,  to  gather  up  woven  goods,  brings  his  employer 
at  least  fines  every  time.  He  asserts  this  himself,  and  he  is  regarded  as 
one  of  the  most  lenient.  Such  things  were  formerly  settled  by  arbitration;  but 
as  the  workers  were  usually  dismissed  if  they  insisted  upon  that,  the  custom  has 
been  almost  wholly  abandoned,  and  the  manufacturer  acts  arbitrarily  as  prose- 
cutor,  witness,  judge,  law-giver  and  executive  in  one  person.  And  if  the  work- 
man  goes  to  a Justice  of  the  Peace,  the  answer  is:  “ When  you  accepted  your 
card  you  entered  upon  a contract,  and  you  must  abide  by  it.”  The  case  is  the 
same  as  that  of  the  factory  operatives.  Besides,  the  employer  obliges  the  work- 
man  to  sign  a document  in  which  he  declares  that  he  agrees  to  the  deductions 
made.  And  if  a workman  rebels,  all  the  manufacturers  in  the  town  know  at 
once  that  he  is  a man  who,  as  Leach  says,^  “ resists  the  lawful  Order  as 
established  by  weavers’  cards  and,  moreover,  has  the  impudence  to  doubt  the 
wisdom  of  those  who  are,  as  he  ought  to  know,  his  superiors  in  society.” 

Naturally,  the  workers  are  perfectly  free;  the  manufacturer  does  not  force 
them  to  take  his  materials  and  his  cards,  but  he  says  to  them  what  Leach  trans- 
lates  into  plain  English  with  the  w’ords:  “ If  you  don’t  iike  to  be  frizzled  in  my 
frying  pan,  you  can  take  a walk  into  the  fire.”  The  silk  weavers  of  London,  and 
especially  of  Spitalfields,  have  lived  in  periodic  distress  for  a long  time,  and  that 
they  still  have  no  cause  to  be  satisfied  wilh  their  lot  is  proved  by  their  taking  a 
most  active  part  in  the  English  labor  movements  in  general,  and  the  London 
ones  in  particular.  The  distress  prevailing  among  them  gave  rise  to  the  fever 
which  broke  out  in  East  London,  and  called  forth  the  Commission  for  Investi- 
gating  the  Sanitary  Condition  of  the  Laboring  Class.  But  the  last  report  of  the 
London  Fever  Hospital  shows  that  this  disease  is  still  raging. 

After  the  textile  fabrics,  by  far  the  most  important  products  of  English 
industry,  are  the  metal  wares.  This  trade  has  its  headquarters  at  Birmingham, 
where  the  finer  metal  goods  of  all  sorts  are  produced,  at  Sheffield  for  cutlery, 
and  in  Staffordshire,  especially  at  Wolverhampton,  where  the  coarser  articles, 
locks,  nails,  etc.,  are  manufactured.  In  describing  the  position  of  the  workers 
employed  in  these  trades',  let  us  begin  with  Birmingham.  The  disposition  of 
work  has  retained  in  Birmingham,  as  in  most  places  where  metals  are  wrought, 
something  of  the  old  handicraft  character;  the  small  employers  are  still  to  be 
found,  who  work  with  their  apprentices  in  the  shop  at  home,  or,  when  they 
need  steam-power,  in  great  factory  buildings  which  are  divided  into  little  shops 
each  rented  to  a small  employer,  and  supplied  with  a shaft  moved  by  the  engine| 


1,  Leach,  Stubbom  Facts,  etc.,  p.  37 — 40. 


133 


and  furnishing  motive  power  for  the  machinery.  Leon  Faucher,  author  of  a 
series  of  articles  in  the  Revue  des  Detix  Moiides,  which  at  least  betray  study,  and 
are  better  than  what  has  hitherto  been  written  upon  the  subject  by  Englishmen, 
or  Germans,  characterizes  this  relation  in  conlrast  with  the  manufacture 
of  Lancashire  as  “ Democratie  industrielle,”  and  observes  that  it  produces  no 
very  favorable  results  for  master  or  men.  This  observation  is  perfectly  correct, 
for  the  many  small  employers  cannot  well  subsist  on  the  profit  divided  amongst 
them,  determined  by  competition,  a profit  under  other  circumstances  absorbed 
by  a single  manufaclurer.  The  centralizing  tendency  of  Capital  holds  them 
down.  For  one  who  grows  rieh  ten  are  ruined,  and  a hundred  placed  at  a 
greater  disadvantage  than  ever,  by  the  pressure  of  the  one  upstart  who  can 
afford  to  seil  more  cheaply  than  they.  And  in  the  cases  where  they  have  to 
compete  from  the  beginning  against  great  capitalists,  it  is  self-evident  that  they 
can  only  toil  along  with  the  greatest  difficulty.  The  apprentices  are,  as  we  shall 
see,  quite  as  badly  off  under  the  small  employers  as  under  the  manufacturers, 
with  the  single  difference  that  they,  in  turn,  may  become  small  employers,  and 
so  attain  a certain  iiidependence — that  is  to  say  they  are  at  best  less  directly 
exploited  by  the  bourgeoisie  than  under  the  factory  System.  Thus  these  small 
employers  are  neither  genuine  proletarians  since  they  live  in  part  upon  the  work 
of  their  apprentices,  nor  genuine  bourgeois  since  their  principal  means  of  Sup- 
port is  their  own  work.  This  peculiar  midway  position  of  the  Birmingham  iron 
workers  is  to  blame  for  their  having  so  rarely  joined  wholly  and  unreservedly  in 
the  English  labor  movements.  Birmingham  is  a politically  radical  but  not  a 
Chartist  town.  There  are,  however,  numerous  larger  factories  belonging  to 
capitalists;  and  in  these  the  factory  System  reigns  supreme.  The  divisiom  of 
labor,  which  is  here  carried  out  to  the  last  detail,  (in  the  needle  industry  for 
example),  and  the  use  of  steam-power,  admit  of  the  employment  of  a great  mul- 
titude  of  w’omen  and  children,  and  we  find  here’  precisely  the  same  features 
reappearing  which  the  Factories  Report  presented,  the  work  of  women  up  to  the 
hour  of  confinement,  incapacity  as  housekeepers,  neglect  of  home  and  children, 
indifference,  actual  dislike  to  family  life,  and  demoralization;  further,  the  crowd- 
ing  out  of  men  from  employment,  the  constant  improvement  of  machinery,  early 
emancipation  of  children,  husbands  supported  by  their  wives  and  children,  etc., 
etc.  The  children  are  described  as  half  starved  and  ragged,  the  half  of  them 
are  said  not  to  know  what  it  is  to  have  enough  to  eat,  many  of  them  get  nothing 
to  eat  before  the  midday  meal,  or  even  live  the  whole  day  upon  a penny  worth 
of  bread  for  a noonday  meal,  there  were  actually  cases  in  which  children 
received  no  food  from  eight  in  the  morning  until  seven  at  night,  Their  clothing 
is  very  often  scarcely  sufficient  to  cover  their  nakedness,  many  are  barefoot  even 
in  winter.  Hence  they  are  all  small  and  weak  for  their  age,  and  rarely  develop 
with  any  degree  of  vigor.  And  when  we  reflect  that  with  these  insufficient 
means  of  reproducing  the  physical  forces,  hard  and  protracted  work  in  dose 


I.  Children’s  Employment  Commission’s  Report. 


134 


rooms  is  required  of  them,  we  cannct  wonder  that  there  are  few  adults  in 
Birmingham  fit  for  military  Service.  “ The  workingmen/’  says  a recruiting 
surgeon,  “ are  small,  delicate  and  of  very  slight  physical  power;  many  of  them 
deformed,  too,  in  the  ehest  or  spinal  column.”  According  to  the  assertion  of  a 
recruiting  Sergeant,  the  people  of  Birmingham  are  smaller  than  those  anywhere 
eise,  being  usually  5 feet  4 to  5 inches  tall;  while  out  of  613  recruits,  but  238 
were  found  fit  for  Service.  As  to  education,  a series  of  depositions  and  speci- 
mens  taken  from  the  metal  districts  has  already  been  given*  to  which  the 
reader  is  referred.  It  appears  further,  from  the  Children’s  Employment  Com- 
mission’s  Report,  that  in  Birmingham  more  than  half  the  children  between  five 
and  fifteen  years  attend  no  school  whatsoever,  that  those  who  do  are  constantly 
changing  so  that  it  is  impossible  to  give  them  any  training  of  an»enduring  kind, 
and  that  they  are  all  withdrawn  from  school  very  early  and  set  to  work.  The 
report  makes  it  clear  Avhat  sort  of  teachers  are  employed.  One  teacher,  in 
answer  to  the  question  vrhether  she  gave  moral  Instruction  said  no,  for  three 
pence  a week  school  fees  that  was  too  much  to  require,  but  that  she  took  a great 
deal  of  trouble  to  instil  good  principles  into  the  children.  (And  she  made  a de- 
cided  slip  in  her  English  in  saying  it.)  In  the  schools  the  commissioner  found 
constant  noise  and  disorder.  The  moral  state  of  the  children  is  in  the 
highest  degree  deplorable.  Half  of  all  the  crimmals  are  children  under  fifteen, 
and  in  a single  year  ninety  ten-years^-old  offenders,  among  them  forty-four 
serious  criminal  cases,  were  sentenced.  Unbridled  sexual  intercourse  seems, 
according  to  the  opinion  of  the  commissioner,  almost  universal,  and  that  at  a 
► very  early  age.^ 

In  the  iron  district  of  Staffordshire,  the  state  of  things  is  still  worse.  For  the 
coarse  wares  made  here  neither  much  division  of  labor,  (with  certain  exceptions), 
nor  steam-power  or  machinery  can  be  applied.  In  Wolverhampton,  Willenhall, 
Bilston,  Sedgley,  Wednesfield,  Darlaston,  Dudley,  Walsall,  Wednesbury,  etc., 
there  are,  therefore,  fewer  factories,  but  chiefly  single  forges  where  the  small 
masters  work  alone,  or  with  one  or  more  apprentices,  who  serve  them  until 
reaching  the  twenty-first  year.  The  small  employers  are  in  about  the  same 
Situation  as  those  of  Birmingham;  but  the  apprentices,  as  a rule,  are  much  worse 
off.  They  get  almost  exclusively  meat  from  diseased  animals  or  such  as  have 
died  a natural  death,  or  taiiited  meat,  or  fish  to  eat,  with  veal  from  calves  killed 
too  young,  and  pork  from  swine  smothered  during  transportation,  and  such  food 
is  furnished  not  by  small  employers  only,  but  by  large  manufacturers,  who 
employ  from  thirty  to  forty  apprentices.  The  custom  seems  to  be  universal  in 
Wolverhampton,  and  its  natural  consequence  is  frequent  bowel  complaints  and 
other  diseases.  Moreover,  the  children  usually  do  not  get  enough  to  eat,  and 
have  rarely  other  clothing  than  their  working  rags,  for  which  reason  if  for  no 
other,  they  cannot  go  to  Sunday  school.  The  dwellings  are  bad  and  filthy. 


1.  See  p.  42. 

2.  Grainger  Report  and  Evidence. 


135 


often  so  much  so  that  they  give  rise  to  disease;  and  in  spite  of  the  not  materially 
unhealthy  work,  the  children  arc  puny,  weak,  and,  in  many  cases,  severely 
crippled.  In  Willenhall,  for  instance,  there  are  countless  persons  who  have 
from  perpetuc^lly  filing  at  the  lathe  crooked  backs  and  one  leg  crooked,  “hind- 
ieg” as  they  call  it,  so  that  the  two  legs  have  the  form  of  a K;  while  it  is  said 
that  more  than  one-third  of  the  \vorkingmen  there  are  ruptured.  Here,  as  well 
as  in  Wolverhampton,  numberless  cases  were  found  of  retarded  puberty  among 
girls,  (for  girls,  too,  work  at  the  forges,)  as  well  as  among  boys,  extending  even 
to  the  nineteenth  year.  In  Sedgley  and  its  surrounding  district,  where  nails 
form  almost  the  sole  product,  the  nailers  live  and  work  in  the  most  wretched 
stable-like  huts,  which  for  filth  can  scarcely  be  equalled.  Girls  and  boys  work 
from  the  tenth  or  twelfth  year,  and  are  accounted  fully  skilled  only  when  they 
make  a thousand  nails  a day.  For  twelve  hundred  nails  the  pay  is  5^d.  Every 
nail  receives  twelve  blows,  and  since  the  hammer  weighs  1^4^  pounds,  the  naher 
must  lift  18,000  pounds  to  earn  this  miserable  pay.  With  this  hard  work  and 
insufficient  food,  the  children  inevitably  develop  ill-formed.  undersized  frames, 
and  the  commissioners  depositions  confirm  this.  As  to  the  state  of  education  in 
this  district  data  have  already  been  furnished  in  the  foregoing  chapters.  It 
is  upon  an  incredibly  low  plane;  half  the  children  do  not  even  go  to  Sunday 
school,  and  the  other  half  go  irregularly;  very  few  in  comparison  wdth  the  other 
districts  can  read,  and  in  the  matter  of  writing  the  case  is  much  worse.  Na- 
turally,  for  between  the  seventh  and  tenth  years,  just  when  they  are  beginning 
to  get  some  good  out  of  going  to  school,  they  are  set  to  work,  and  the  Sunday 
school  teachers,  smiths  or  miners,  frequently  cannot  read,  and  write  theirnames 
with  difFiculty.  The  prevailing  morals  correspond  with  these  means  of  education. 
In  Willenhall,  Commissioner  Home  asserts  and  supplies  ample  proofs  of  his  as- 
sertion,  that  there  exists  absolutely  no  moral  sense  among  the  workers.  In 
general,  he  found  that  the  children  neither  recognized  duties  to  their  parents  nor 
feit  any  affection  for  them.  They  were  so  little  capable  of  thinking  of  what  they 
said,  so  stolid,  so  hopelessly  stupid,  that  they  often  asserted  that  they  were  well 
treated,  were  coming  on  famously,  when  they  were  forced  to  work  twelve  to  four- 
teen  hours,  were  clad  in  rags,  did  not  get  enough  to  eat,  and,  were  beaten  so 
that  they  feit  it  several  days  afterwards.  They  knew  nothing  of  a different  kind 
of  life  than  that  in  which  they  toil  from  morning  until  they  are  allowed  to  stop 
at  night,  and  did  not  even  understand  the  question  never  heard  before,  whether 
they  were  tired. ' 

In  Sheffield  wages  are  better,  and  the  external  state  of  the  workers  also.  On 
the  oth^^r  hand  certain  branches  of  work  are  to  be  noticed  here,  because  of  their 
extraordinarily  injurious  influence  upon  health.  Certain  operations  require  the 
constant  pressure  of  tools  against  the  ehest,  and  engender  consumption  in  many 
cases;  others,  file  cutting  among  them,  retard  the  general  development  of  the 
body  and  produce  digestive  disorders;  bone  cutting  for  knife  handles  brings 


1.  Home  Report  and  Evidence. 


136 


with  it  headache,  biliousness,  and  among  girls,  of  whom  many  are  employed, 
anaemia.  By  far,  the  most  unvvholesome  work  is  the  grinding  of  knife-blades 
and  forks  which,  especially  when  done  with  a dry  stone,  entails  certain  early 
death.  The  unwholesomeness  of  this  work  lies  in  part  in  the  bent  posture,  in 
which  ehest  and  stomach  are  cramped;  but  especially  in  the  quantity  of  sharp- 
edged  metal  dust  particles  freed  in  the  cutting,  which  fill  the  atmosphere,  and 
are  necessarily  inhaled.  The  dry-grinders’  average  life  is  hardly  thirty-five 
years,  the  wet  grinders’  rarely  exceeds  forty-five.  Dr.  Knight,  in  Sheffield, 
says:^ 

“ I can  convey  some  idea  of  the  injuriousness  of  this  occupation  only  by  as- 
serting  that  the  hardest  drinkers  among  the  grinders  are  the  longest  lived  among 
them,  because  they  are  longest  and  oftenest  absent  from  their  work.  There  are, 
in  all,  some  2,500  grinders  in  Sheffield.  About  150,  (80  men  and  70  boys),  are 
fork  grinders;  these  die  between  the  twenty-eighth  and  thirty-second  years  of 
age.  The  razor  grinders,  who  grind  wet  as  well  as  dry,  die  between  forty  and 
forty-five  years,  and  the  table  cutlery  grinders,  who  grind  wet,  die  between  the 
fortieth  and  fiftieth  years.’* 

The  same  physician  gives  the  following  description  of  the  course  of  the  dis- 
ease called  grinders’  asthma: 

“ They  usually  begin  their  work  with  the  fourteenth  year,  and,  if  they  have 
good  consiitutions,  rarely  notice  any  Symptoms  before  the  twentieth  year.  Then 
the  Symptoms  of  their  peculiar  disease  appear.  They  suffer  from  shortness  of 
breath  at  the  slightest  effort,  in  going  up  hill  or  up  stairs,  they  habitually  raise 
the  Shoulders  to  relieve  the  permanent  and  increasing  want  of  breath;  they  bend 
forward  and  seem,  in  generai,  to  feel  most  comfortable  in  the  crouching  position 
in  which  they  work.  Their  complexion  becomes  dirty  yellow,  their  features 
express  anxiety,  they  complain  of  pressure  upon  the  ehest.  Their  voices  become 
rough  and  hoarse,  they  cough  loudly,  and  the  sound  is  as  if  air  w'ere  driven 
through  a wooden  tube.  From  time  to  time,  they  expectorate  considerable 
quantities  of  dust,  either  mixed  with  phlegm,  or  in  balls,  or  cylindrical  masses, 
with  a thin  coating  of  mucous,  spitting  blood,  inability  to  lie  down,  night  sweat, 
colliquative  diarrhoea,  unusual  loss  of  flesh  and  all  the  usual  Symptoms  of  con- 
sumption  of  the  lungs  finally  carry  them  off,  after  they  have  lingered  months,  or 
even  years,  unfit  to  support  themselves  or  those  dependent  upon  them.  I must 
add  that  all  attempts  which  have  hitherto  been  made  to  prevent  grinders’ 
asthma,  or  to  eure  it,  have  wholly  failed.” 

All  this  Knight  wrote  ten  years  ago;  since,  then,  the  number  of  grinders  and 
the  violence  of  the  disease  have  increased,  though  attempts  have  been  made  to 
prevent  it  by  covered  grindstones  and  carrying  off  the  dust  by  artificial  draught. 
These  methods  have  been  at  least  partially  successful,  but  the  grinders  do  not 
desire  their  adoption,  and  have  even  destroyed  the  contrivance  here  and  there, 
in  the  belief  that  more  workers  may  be  attracted  to  the  business  and  wages  thus 
reduced;  they  are  for  a short  life  and  a merry  one.  Dr.  Knight  has  often  told 
grinders  who  came  to  him  with  the  first  Symptoms  of  asthma  that  a return  to 
grinding  means  certain  death,  but  with  no  avail.  He  who  is  once  a grinder  falls 
into  despair,  as  though  he  had  sold  himself  to  the  devil.  Education  in  Shef- 


1.  Dr.  Knight,  Sheffield. 


137 


field  is  lipon  a very  low  plane;  a clerjryman,  who  had  occnpied  himself  largely 
with  the  statistics  of  ediication,  was  of  the  opinion  that  of  16,500  children  of  the 
working  dass  wbo  are  in  a position  to  attend  school,  scarcely  6,500  can  read. 
This  comes  of  the  fact  that  the  diildren  are  taken  from  sdiool  in  the  seventh, 
and  at  the  very  latest  in  the  twelfth  year,  and  that  the  teachers  are  good  for 
nothing;  one  was  a convicted  thirf  who  found  no  other  way  of  supporting  him- 
self  after  being  released  from  jail  than  tcaching  school!  Immorality  among 
young  people  seems  to  be  more  prevalent  in  Sheffield  than  anywhere  eise.  It  is 
hard  to  teil  which  town  ought  to  have  the  pvize,  and  in  reading  the  Report  one 
believes  of  each  one  that  this  certainly  deserves  it!  The  younger  generation 
spend  the  whole  of  Sunday  lying  in  the  Street  tossing  coins  or  fighting  dogs,  go 
regularly  to  the  gin  palace  where  they  sit  with  their  sweethearts  nntil  late  at 
night,  when  they  take  walks  in  solitary  couples.  In  an  alehouse  which  the  com- 
missioner  visited,  there  sat  forty  to  fifty  young  people  of  both  sexes,  nearly  all 
linder  seventeen  years  of  age,  and  each  lad  beside  his  lass.  Here  and  there 
cards  were  played,  at  other  places  dancing  was  going  on,  and  every where  drink- 
ing.  Among  the  Company  were  openly  avowed  professional  prostitutes.  No 
wonder,  then,  that  as  all  the  witnesses  testify,  early,  unbridled  sexual  inter- 
course,  youthful  prostitution  beginning  with  persons  of  fourteen  to  fifteen  years 
is  extraordinarily  frequent  in  Sheffield.  Crimes  of  a savage  and  despairing  sori 
are  of  common  occurrence;  one  year  before  the  commissioner’s  visit,  a band, 
consisting  chiefly  of  young  persons,  was  arrested  when  about  to  set  fire  to  the 
town,  being  fully  equipped  with  lances  and  inflammable  substances.  We  shall 
see  later  that  the  labor  movement  in  Sheffield  has  this  same  savage  character.  ’ 

Besides  these  two  main  centers  of  the  metal  industry,  there  are  needle  factories 
in  Warrington,  Lancashire,  where  great  want,  immorality  and  ignorance  prevail 
among  the  workers,  and  especially  among  the  children;  and  a number  of  nai! 
forges  in  the  neighborhood  of  Wigan,  in  Lancashire,  and  in  the  east  of  Scot- 
land. The  reports  from  these  latter  districts  teil  almost  precisely  the  same 
Story  as  those  of  Staffordshire.  There  is  one  more  branch  of  this  industry  car- 
ried  on  in  the  factory  districts,  especially  in  Lancashire,  the  essential  peculiarity. 
of  which  is  the  production  of  machinery  by  machinery,  whereby  the  workers, 
crowded  out  elsewhere,  are  deprived  of  their  last  refuge,  the  creation  of  the  very 
enemy  which  supersedes  them.  Machinery  for  planing  and  boring,  cutting 
screws,  wheels,  nuts,  etc.,  with  power  lathes,  has  thrown  out  of  employment  a 
multitude  of  men  who  formerly  found  regulär  work  at  good  wages;  and  whoever 
wishes  to  do  so  may  see  crowds  of  them  in  Manchester. 

North  of  the  iron  district  of  Staffordshire  lies  an  industrial  region  to  which  we 
shall  now  turn  our  attention,  the  potteries,  whose  headquarters  are  in  the 
borough  of  Stoke,  embracing  Henley,  Burslam,  Lane  End,  I.ane  Delph, 
Etruria,  Coleridge,  Langport,  Tunstall  and  Golden  Hill,  containing  together 
60,000  inhabitants.  The  Children’s  Employment  Commission  reports  upon  this 
subject  that  in  some  branches  of  this  industry,  in  the  production  of  stoneware. 


I.  Symons  Report  and  Evidence. 


- 133  - 

the  children  have  light  employment  in  warm,  airy  rooms;  in  others,  on  the  con- 
trary,  hard,  wearing  labor  is  required,  while  they  receive  neither  sufficient  food 
nor  good  clothing.  Many  children  complain:  “ Don’t  get  enough  to  eat,  get 
mostly  potatoes  with  salt,  never  meat,  never  bread,  don’-t  go  to  school,  haven’t 
got  no  clothes.”  “ Haven’t  had  nothin’  to  eat  to-day  for  dinner,  don’t  never 
have  dinner  at  home,  get  mostly  potatoes  and  salt,  sometimes  bread.”  “ These 
is  all  the  clothes  I have,  no  Sunday  suit  at  home.”  Among  the  children  whose 
work  is  especially  injurious  are  the  mould  runners,  who  have  to  carry  the  molded 
article  with  the  form  to  the  drying-room,  and  afterwards  bring  back  the  empiy 
form  when  the  article  is  properly  dried.  Thus  they  must  go  to  and  fro  the 
whole  day,  carrying  burdens  heavy  in  proportion  to  their  age,  while  the  high 
temperature  in  which  they  have  to  do  this  increases  very  considerably  the  cx- 
haustiveness  of  the  work.  These  children,  with  scarcely  a single  exception,  are 
lean,  pale,  feeble,  stunted;  nearly  all  suffer  from  stomach  troubles,  nausea,  want 
of  appetite,  and  many  of  them  die  of  consumption.  Almost  as  delicate  are  the 
boys  called  “jiggers”  from  the  “jigger”  wheel  which  they  turn.  But,  by  far, 
t*he  most  injurious  is  the  work  of  those  who  dip  the  finished  article  into  a fluid 
containing  great  quantities  of  lead,  and  often  of  arsenic,  or  have  to  take  the 
freshly-dipped  article  up  with  the  hand.  The  hands  and  clothing  of  these 
workers,  adults  and  children,  are  always  wet  with  this  fluid,  the  skin  softens 
and  falls  off  under  the  constant  contact  with  rough  objects,  so  that  the  fingers 
often  bleed,  and  are  constantly  in  a state  most  favorable  for  the  absorption  of 
this  dangerous  substance.  The  consequence  is  violent  pain,  and  serious  disease 
of  the  stomach  and  intestines,  obstinate  constipation,  colic,  sometimes  consump- 
tion and,  most  common  of  all,  epilepsy  among  children.  Among  men,  partial 
paralysis  of  the  hand  muscles,  colica  pictorum,  and  paralysis  of  whole  limbs  are 
ordinary  phenomena.  One  witness  relates  that  two  children  who  worked  with 
him  died  of  convulsions  at  their  work;  another  who  had  lielped  with  the  dipping 
two  years  while  a boy,  relates  that  he  had  violent  pains  in  the  bowels  at  lirst, 
then  convulsions,  in  consequence  of  which  he  was  confined  to  his  bed  two 
months,  since  when  the  attacks  of  convulsions  have  increased  in  frequency,  are 
now  daily,  accompanied  often  by  ten  to  twenty  epileptic  fits,  his  right  arm  is 
paralyzed,  and  the  physicians  teil  him  that  he  can  never  regain  the  use  of  his 
limbs.  In  one  factory  were  found  in  the  dipping-house  four  men,  all  epileptic 
and  alflicted  with  severe  colic,  and  eleven  boys,  several  of  whom  were  already 
epileptic.  In  short,  this  frightful  disease  follows  this  occupation  universaliy; 
and  that,  too,  to  the  greater  pecuniary  profit  of  the  bourgeoisie!  In  the  rooms 
in  which  the  stoneware  is  scoured,  the  atmosphere  is  filled  with  pulverized  flint, 
the  breathing  of  which  is  as  injurious  as  that  of  the  Steel  dust  among  the  Shef- 
field grinders.  The  workers  lose  breath,  cannot  lie  down,  suffer  from  sore 
throat  and  violent  coughing,  and  come  to  have  so  feeble  a voice  that  they  can 
scarcely  be  heard.  They,  too,  all  die  of  consumption.  In  the  potteries  district, 
the  schools  are  said  to  be  comparatively  numerous,  and  to  offer  the  children 
opportunities  for  Instruction;  but  as  the  latter  are  so  early  set  to  work  for  twelve 


139 


hours  and  often  more  per  day,  they  are  not  in  a position  to  avail  themselves  of 
the  schools,  so  that  three-fourths  of  the  children  examined  by  the  commissioner 
could  neither  read  nor  write,  while  the  whole  district  is  plunged  in  the  deepest 
ignorance.  Children  who  have  attended  Sunday  school  for  years  could  not  teil 
one  letter  from  another,  and  the  moral  and  religious  education,  as  well  as  the 
intellectual,  is  on  a vtry  low  plane.  ^ 

In  the  manufacture  of  glass,  too,  work  occurs  which  seems  little  injurious  to 
men,  but  cannot  be  endured  by  children.  The  hard  labor,  the  irregularity  of 
the  hours,  the  frequent  night-work,  and  especially  the  great  heat  of  the  working 
place,  (300  to  330  Fahrenheit),  engender  in  children  general  debility  and  disease, 
stunted  growth,  and  especially  affections  of  the  eye,  bowel  complaint,  and 
rheumatic  and  bronchial  affections.  Many  of  the  children  are  pale,  have  red 
eyes,  often  blind  for  weeks  at  a time,  suffer  from  violent  nausea,  vomiting, 
coughs,  colds  and  rheumatism.  When  the  glass  is  withdrawn  from  the  fire,  the 
children  must  often  go  into  such  heat  that  the  boards  on  which  they  stand  catch 
fire  under  their  feet.  The  glassblowers  usually  die  young  of  debility  and  ehest 
affections.^ 

As  a whole,  this  report  testifies  to  the  gradual  but  sure  introduction  of  the 
factory  System  into  all  branches  of  industry,  recognizable  especially  by  the  em- 
ployment  of  women  and  children.  I have  not  thought  it  necessary  to  trace  in 
every  case  the  progress  of  machinery  and  the  superseding  of  men  as  w^orkers. 
Every  one  who  is  in  any  degree  acquainted  with  the  natiire  of  manufacture  can 
fill  this  out  for  himself.  while  space  falls  me  to  describe  in  detail  an  aspect  of 
our  present  System  of  production,  the  result  of  which  I have  already  sketched  in 
dealing  with  the  factory  System.  In  all  directions  machinery  is  being  intro- 
duced,  and  the  last  trace  of  the  workingman's  independence  thus  destroyed.  In 
all  directions  the  family  is  being  dissolved  by  the  labor  of  wife  and  children,  or 
Inverted  by  the  husband’s  being  thrown  out  of  employment  and  made  de- 
pendent  upon  them  for  bread;  every where  the  inevitable  machinery  bestows 
upon  the  great  capitalist  command  of  trade  and  of  the  workers  with  it.  The 
centralization  of  property  strides  forward  without  interruption,  the  division  of 
society  into  great  capitalists  and  non-possessing  workers  is  sharper  every  day, 
the  industrial  development  of  the  nation  advances  with  giant  strides  towards  the 
inevitable  crisis. 

I have  already  stated  that  in  the  han  lic^afts  the  power  of  Capital  and  in  some 
cases  the  division  of  labor,  too,  has  produced  the  same  results,  crushed  the 
small  tradesmen,  and  put  great  capitalists  and  non-possessing  workers  in  their 
place.  As  to  these  handicraftsmen  ih  -re  is  little  to  be  said,  since  all  that  relates 
to  them  has  already  found  its  place  where  the  Proletariat  in  general  was  under 
discussion.  There  has  been  but  little  change  here  in  the  nature  of  the  work  and 

1.  Scriven  Report  and  Evidence. 

2.  Leifchild  Report  Append.,  Part  II.,  p.  2,  L,  SS.  II,  i2;I  , , t-  , ^ . 

Franks  Report  Append.,  Part  11.,  p.  7,  iv,  s.  48;  f Children  s Employment  Commis- 

Tancred  Lvid.  Append.,  Part  II.,  p.  76,  l’  etc.  * j sion’s  Report. 


— 140  — 

its  influence  upon  the  heallh  since  the  beginning  of  the  industrial  movement. 
Biit  the  constant  contact  with  the  factory  operatives,  the  pressure  of  the  great 
capitalists  which  is  much  more  feit  thaii  that  of  the  small  employer  to  whom  the 
apprentice  still  stood  in  a more  or  less  personal  relation,  the  influences  of  life  in 
towns,  and  the  fall  of  wages,  have  made  nearly  all  the  handicraftsmen  active 
participators  in  the  labor  movements.  We  shall  soon  have  more  to  say  on  this 
point,  and  turn  meanwhile  to  one  section  of  workers  in  London  who  deserve  our 
attention  by  reason  of  the  extraordinary  barbarity  with  which  they  are  exploited 
by  the  money  greed  of  the  bourgeoisie.  I mean  the  dressmakers  and  sewing 
wo  men. 

It  is  a curious  fact  that  the  production  of  precisely  those  articles  which  serve 
the  personal  adornment  of  the  ladies  of  the  bourgeoisie  involves  the  saddest 
consequences  for  the  health  of  the  workers.  We  have  already  seen  this  in  the 
case  of  the  lacemakers,  and  come  now  to  the  dressmaking  establishments  of 
London  for  further  prooL  They  employ  a mass  of  young  girls — there  are  said 
to  be  15,000'bf  them  in  all — who  sleep  and  eat  on  the  premises,  come  usually 
from  the  country,  and  are  therefore  absolutely  the  slaves  of  their  employers. 
Düring  the  fashionable  season  which  lasts  some  four  months,  working  hours, 
even  in  the  best  establishments,  are  fifteen  and  in  very  pressing  cases  eighteen  a 
day;  but  in  most  shops  work  goes  on  at  these  times  with  out  any  set  regulation, 
so  that  the  girls  never  have  more  than  six,  often  not  more  than  three  or  four, 
sometimes,  indeed,  not  more  than  two  hours  in  the  twenty-four  for  rest  and 
sleep,  working  nineteen  to  twenty  hours,  if  not  the  whole  night  through,  as 
frequently  happens!  The  only  limit  set  to  their  work  is  the  absolute  physical 
inability  to  hold  the  needle  another  minute.  Cases  have  occurred  in  which 
these  helpless  creatures  did  not  undress  during  nine  consecutive  days  and  nights, 
and  could  only  rest  a moment  or  two  here  and  there  upon  a mattress,  where  food 
was  served  them  ready  cut  up  in  order  to  require  the  least  possible  time  for 
swallowing.  In  short,  these  unfortunate  girls  are  kept  by  means  of  the  moral 
whip  of  the  modern  slave-driver,  the  threat  of  discharge,  to  such  long  and  un- 
broken  toil  as  no  strong  man,  much  less  a delicate  girl  of  fourteen  to  twenty 
years  can  endure.  In  addition  to  this,  the  foul  air  of  the  work-room  and  sleep- 
ing  places,  the  bent  posture,  the  often  bad  and  indigestible  food,  all  these 
causes  combined  with  almost  total  exclusion  from  fresh  air,  entail  the  saddest 
consequences  for  the  health  of  the  girls.  Enervation,  exhaustion,  debility,  less 
of  appetite,  pains  in  the  shoulders,  back  and  hips,  but  especially  headache,  begin 
very  soon;  then  follow  curvatures  of  the  spine,  high,  deformed  shoulders,  lean- 
ness,  swelled,  weeping  and  smarting  eyes  which  soon  become  short-sighted, 
coughs,  narrow  chests  and  shortness  of  breath,  and  all  manner  of  disorders  in 
the  development  of  the  female  organism.  In  many  cases  the  eyes  suffer  so 
severely  that  incurable  blindness  follows;  but  if  the  sight  remains  strong  enough 
to  make  continued  work  possible,  consumption  usually  soon  ends  the  sad  life  of 
these  milliners  and  dressmakers.  Even  those  who  leave  this  work  at  an  early 
age  retain  permanently  injured  health,  a broken  Constitution;  and,  when  mar- 


141 


ried,  bring  feeble  and  sickly  children  into  the  world.  All  the  medical  men 
interrogated  by  the  commissioner  agreed  that  no  method  of  life  could  be 
invented  better  calculated  to  destroy  health  and  induce  early  death. 

With  the  same  craelty,  though  somewhat  more  indirectly,  the  rest  of  the 
needle  women  of  London  are  exploited.  The  girls  employed  in  staymaking 
have  a hard,  wearing  occupation,  trying  to  the  eyes.  And  what  wages  do  they 
gel?  I do  not  know;  but  this  I know,  that  the  middleman  who  has  to  give 
security  for  the  material  delivered  and  who  distributes  the  work  among  the 
needle  women,  receives  i^d.  per  piece.  From  this  he  deducts  his  own  pay,  at 
least  ^d.,  so  that  id.  at  most  reaches  the  pocket  of  the  girl.  The  girls  who 
sew  neckties  must  bind  themselves  to  work  sixteen  hours  a day,  and  receive 
45^s.  a week.  ‘ But  the  shirtmakers’  lot  is  the  worst.  They  receive  for  an 
ordinary  shirt  formerly  2 — 3d.;  but  since  the  wwkhouse  of  St.  Pancras, 

which  is  administered  by  a Radical  board  of  guardians,  began  to  undertake  work 
at  ij4d.,  the  poor  women  outside  have  been  compelled  to  do  the  same.  For 
fine,  fancy  shirts,  which  can  be  made  in  one  day  of  eighteen  hours,  6d.  is  paid. 
The  weekly  wage  of  these  sewiiig  women  according  to  this  and  according  to 
tesiimony  from  many  sides,  including  both  needle  women  and  employers,  is 
2s.  6d.  to  3s.  for  most  sirained  work  continued  far  into  the  night.  And  what 
crow’ns  this  shameful  barbarism  is  the  fact  that  the  women  must  give  a money 
deposit  for  a part  of  the  materials  entrusted  to  them,  which  they  naturally  can- 
not  do  unless  they  pawn  a part  of  them,  (as  the  employers  very  well  know), 
redeeming  them  at  a loss;  or  if  they  cannot  redeem  the  materials,  they  must 
appear  before  a Justice  of  the  Peace  as  happened  a sewing  woman  in  November, 
1S43.  A poor  girl  who  got  into  this  strait  and  did  not  kuow  what  to  do  next, 
drowned  herseif  in  a canal  in  1844.  These  woinen  usually  live  in  little  garret 
rooms  in  the  utmost  distress,  where  as  many  crowd  togelher  as  the  space  can 
possibly  admit,  and  where,  in  winter,  the  animal  warmth  of  the  workers  is  the 
only  heat  obtainable.  Here  they  sit  bent  over  their  work,  sewing  from  four  or 
five  in  the  morning  until  midnight,  destroying  their  health  in  a year  or  two  and 
ending  in  an  early  grave,  without  being  able  to  obtain  the  poorest  necessities  of 
life  meanwhile.  ^ And  below  them  roll  the  brilliant  ec]uipage3  of  the  upper 
bourgeoisie,  and  perhaps  ten  steps  away  some  pitiable  dandy  loses  more  money 
in  one  evening  at  faro  than  they  can  earn  in  a year. 

* :i:  * 

Such  is  the  condition  of  the  English  manufacturing  Proletariat.  In  all  direc- 
tions,  whithersoever  we  may  turn,  we  find  want  and  disease  permanent  or 
temporary,  and  demoralization  arising  from  the  condition  of  the  workers;  in  all 

1.  See  Wetkly  Dispatch,  March  i6th,  1844. 

2.  Thomas  Hood,  the  most  talented  of  all  the  English  humorists  now  living,  and  like  all  humor- 
ists  full  of  human  leeling  but  wanting  in  mental  energy,  published  at  the  beginning  of  1844  a 
beautiful  poem,  1 he  Song  of  the  Shirt,”  which  drew  sympathetic  but  unavailing  tears  from  the 
eyes  of  the  daughters  of  the  bourgeoisie.  Origmally  published  in  Punck^  it  made  the  round  of 
all  the  papers.  As  discussions  of  the  condition  of  the  sewing  women  filled  all  the  papers  at  the 
time,  spccial  extracts  are  needless. 


142 


directions  slow  but  sure  undermining“,  and  final  destruction  of  t!ie  human  being 
physically  as  well  as  mentally.  Is  this  a state  of  things  whith  can  last  ? It 
cannot  and  will  not  last.  The  workers,  the  great  majority  of  the  nation,  will 
not  endure  it.  Let  us  see  what  they  say  of  it. 

Labor  Movements. 

It  must  be  admitted,  even  if  I had  not  proved  it  so  often  in  detail,  that  the 
English  workers  cannot  feel  happy  in  this  condition;  that  theirs  is  not  a state  in 
which  a man  or  a whole  dass  of  men  can  think,  feel  and  live  as  human  beings. 
The  workers  must  therefore  strive  to  escape  from  this  brutalizing  condition,  to 
secure  for  themselves  a better,  more  human  position;  and  this  they  cannot  do 
without  attacking  the  interest  of  the  bourgeoisie  which  consists  in  exploiting 
them.  But  the  bourgeoisie  defends  its  interests  with  all  the  power  placed  at  its 
disposal  by  wealth  and' the  might  of  the  State.  In  proportion  as  the  working- 
man  determines  to  alter  the  present  state  of  things,  the  bourgeois  becomes  his 
avowed  enemy. 

Moreover,  the  workingman  is  made  to  feel  at  every  moment  that  the 
bourgeoisie  treats  him  as  a chattel,  as  its  property,  and  for  this  reason,  if  for  no 
other,  he  must  come  forward  as  its  enemy.  I have  shown  in  a hundred  ways  in 
the  foregoing  pages,  and  could  have  shown  in  a hundred  others  that,  in  our 
present  society,  he  can  save  his  manhood  only  in  hatred  and  rebellion  against 
the  bourgeoisie.  And  he  can  protest  with  most  violent  passion  against  the 
tyranny  of  the  propertied  dass  thanks  to  his  education,  or  rather  want  of 
education,  and  to  the  abundance  of  hot  Irish  blood  that  flows  in  the  veins  of  the 
English  working  dass.  The  English  workingman  is  no  Englishman  nowadays; 
no  calculating  money-grabber  like  bis  wealthy  neighbor.  He  possesses  more 
fully  developed  feelings,  his  native  northern  coldness  is  overborne  by  the  unre- 
strained  development  of  his  passions  and  their  control  over  him.  The  cultiva- 
tion  of  the  understanding  w’hich  so  greatly  strengthens  the  selfish  tendency  of 
the  English  bourgeois,  which  has  made  selfishness  his  predominant  trait  and 
concentrated  all  his  emotional  power  upon  the  single  point  of  money  greed  is 
wanting  in  the  workingman,  whose  passions  are  therefore  strong  and  mighty  as 
those  of  the  foreigner.  English  nationality  is  annihilated  in  the  workingman. 

Since,  as  w^e  have  seen,  no  single  field  for  the  exercise  of  his  manhood  is  left 
him,  save  his  Opposition  to  the  whole  conditions  of  his  life,  it  is  natural  that 
exactly  in  this  Opposition  he  should  be  most  manly,  noblest,  most  worthy  of 
sympathy.  We  shall  see  that  all  the  energy,  all  the  activity  of  the  workingmen 
is  directed  to  this  point,  and  that  even  their  atteiiipts  to  altain  general  education 
all  stand  in  direct  connection  with  this.  True,  we  shall  have  single  acts  of 
violence  and  even  of  brutality  to  repoit,  but  it  must  always  be  kept  in  mind  that 
the  social  war  is  avowedly  raging  in  England;  and  that,  whereas  it  is  in  the  in- 
terest of  the  bourgeoisie  to  conduct  this  war  hypocritically,  under  the  disguise 
of  peace  and  even  of  philanthropy,  the  only  help  for  the  workingmen  consists  in 


143 


layin g-  bare  the  true  state  of  things  and  deslroying  this  hypocrisy;  that  the  most 
violent  attacks  of  the  workers  upon  the  bourgeoisie  and  ils  servants  are  only  the 
open,  undisguised  expression  of  that  which  the  bourgeoisie  perpetrates  secretly, 
treacherously  against  the  workers. 

The  revolt  of  the  workers  began  soon  after  the  first  industrial  development, 
and  has  passed  through  several  phases.  The  Investigation  of  their  importance 
in  the  history  of  the  English  people  I must  reserve  for  separate  treatment,  limit- 
ing  myself  meanwhile  to  such  bare  facts  as  serve  to  characterize  the  condition  of 
the  English  Proletariat. 

The  earliest,  crudest  and  least  fruitful  form  of  this  rebellion  was  that  of 
crime.  The  w'orkingman  lived  in  poverty  and  want  and  saw  that  others  were 
better  off  than  he.  It  was  not  clear  to  his  mind  why  he,  who  did  more  for 
society  than  the  lich  idler,  should  be  the  one  to  suffer  under  these  conditions. 
Want  conquered  his  inherited  respect  for  the  sacredness  of  property  and  he 
Stole.  We  have  seen  how  crime  increased  with  the  extension  of  manufacture, 
how  the  yearly  number  of  arrests  bore  a constant  relalion  to  the  number  of  bales 
of  cotton  annually  consumed. 

The  workers  soon  realized  that  crime  did  not  help  matters.  The  criminal 
could  Protest  against  the  existing  order  of  society  only  singly,  as  one  individual; 
the  whole  might  of  society  was  bronght  to  bear  upon  each  criminal  and  crushed  him 
with  its  immense  superiority.  Besides,  theft  was  the  most  primitive  form  of 
protest,  and  for  this  reason  if  for  no  other,  it  never  became  the  universal  ex- 
pression of  the  public  opinion  of  the  workingmen,  however  much  they  might 
approve  of  it  in  silence.  As  a dass,  they  first  manifested  Opposition  to  the 
bourgeoisie  when  they  resisted  the  introduction  of  machinery  at  the  very  begin- 
ning  of  the  industrial  period.  The  first  inventors,  Arkwright  and  others,  were 
persecuted  in  this  way  and  their  machines  destroyed.  Later,  there  took  place  a 
number  of  revolts  against  machinery  in  which  the  occurrences  were  almost  pre- 
cisely  the  same  as  those  of  the  printers’  disturbances  in  Bohemia  in  1844; 
factories  were  demolished  and  machinery  destroyed. 

.This  form  of  Opposition  also  was  isolated,  restricted  to  certain  localities,  and 
directed  against  one  feature  only  of  our  present  social  arrangements.  When 
the  momentary  end  was  attained,  the  whole  weight  of  social  power  feil  upon  the 
unprotected  evil-doers  and  punished  them  to  its  hearts  content,  while  the 
machinery  was  introduced  none  the  less.  A new  form  of  Opposition  had  to  be 
found. 

At  this  point  help  came  in  theshape  of  a law  enacted  by  the  old,  unreformed, 
oligarchic-Tory  Parliament,  a law  which  never  could  have  passed  the  House  of 
Commons  later  when  the  Reform  Bill  had  legally  sanctioned  the  distinction 
between  bourgeoisie  and  Proletariat,  and  made  the  bourgeoisie  the  ruling  dass, 
'l'his  was  enacted  in  1824,  and  repealed  all  laws  by  which  coalitions  between 
workingmen  for  labor  purposes  had  hitherto  been  forbidden.  The  workingmen 
obtained  a right  previously  restricted  to  the  aristocracy  and  bourgeoisie,  the 
right  of  free  association.  Secret  coalitions  had,  it  is  true,  previously  existed. 


144 


but  could  never  achieve  great  results.  In  Glasgow,  as  Symons’  relates,  a 
general  strike  of  weavers  had  taken  place  in  1812,  which  was  brought  about  by 
a secret  association.  It  was  repeated  in  1822,  and  on  this  occasion  vitriol  was 
thrown  into  the  faces  of  two  workingmen  who  would  not  join  the  association, 
and  vvere  therefore  regarded  by  the  members  as  traitors  to  their  dass.  Both  Ihe 
assaulted  lost  the  use  of  their  eyes  in  consequence  of  the  injury.  So,  too,  in 
1818,  the  association  of  Scottish  miners  was  powerful  enough  to  carry  on  a 
general  strike.  These  associations  required  their  members  to  take  an  oath  of 
fidelity  and  spcrecy,  had  regulär  lists,  treasurers,  book-keepers  and  local 
branches.  But  the  secrecy  with  which  everything  was  conducted  crippled  their 
growth.  When,  on  ihe  olher  hand,  the  workingman  received  in  1824  the  right 
of  free  association,  these  combinations  were  very  soon  spread  over  all  England 
and  attained  great  power.  In  all  branches  of  industry  Trades  Unions  were 
formed  with  the  outspoken  intention  of  protecting  the  single  workingman 
against  the  tyranny  and  neglect  of  the  bourgeoisie.  Their  objects  were  to  deal, 
en  7?tasse,  as  a power,  with  the  employers;  to  regulate  the  rate  of  wages  accord- 
ing  to  the  pro  fit  of  the  latter,  to  raise  it  when  opportunity  offered,  and  lo  keep 
it  uniform  in  each  trade  throughout  the  country.  Hence  they  tried  to  settle 
with  the  capitalists  a scale  of  wages  to  be  universally  adhered  to,  and  ordered 
out  on  strike  the  employees  of  such  individuals  as  refused  to  accept  the  scale. 
They  aimed  further  to  keep  up  the  demand  for  labor  by  limiting  the  number  of 
apprentices  and  so  to  keep  wages  high;  to  counteract,  as  far  as  possible,  the  in- 
direct  wages-reductions  which  the  manufacturers  brought  about  by  means  of 
new  tools  and  machinery;  and  finally,  to  assist  unemployed  workingmen  finan- 
cially.  This  they  do  either  directly  or  by  means  of  a card  to  legitimate  the 
bearer  as  a “society  man,”  and  with  which  the  workingman  wanders  from  place 
to  place  supported  by  his  fellow  workers,  and  instructed  as  to  the  best  oppor- 
tunity for  finding  employment.  This  is  tramping,  and  the  w^anderer  a tramp. 
To  attain  these  ends,  a President  and  Secretary  are  engaged  at  a salary  (since 
it  is  to  be  expected  that  no  manufacturer  will  employ  such  persons),  and  a com- 
mittee  collects  the  weekly  contributions  and  watches  over  their  expenditure  for 
the  purposes  of  the  association.  When  it  proved  possible  and  advantageous, 
the  various  trades  of  single  districts  United  in  a federation  and  held  delegate 
conventions  at  set  times.  The  attempt  has  been  made  in  single  cases,  to  unite 
the  workers  of  one  branch  over  all  England,  in  one  great  Union;  and  several 
times  (in  1830  for  the  first  time),  to  form  one  universal  trades  association  for 
the  whole  United  kingdom,  with  a separate  Organization  for  each  trade.  These 
associations,  however,  never  held  together  long,  and  were  seldom  realized  even 
for  the  moment,  since  an  exceptionally  universal  excitement  is  necessary  to 
make  such  a federation  possible  and  eifective, 

The  means  usually  employed  by  these  Unions  for  attaining  their  ends  are  the 
füilowing:  If  one  or  more  employers  refuse  to  pay  the  wage  specified  by  the 


I.  Arts  and  Artizans,  p.  137  et.  seq. 


Union,  a deputation  is  sent  or  a petition  forwarded,  (the  workingmen,  you  see 
know  how  to  recognize  the  absolute  power  of  the  lord  of  the  factory  in  his  little 
State);  if  this  proves  unavailing,  the  Union  commands  the  employees  to  stop 
work  and  all  hands  go  home.  This  strike  is  either  partial  when  one  or  several, 
or  general  when  all  employers  in  the  trade  refuse  to  regulate  wages  acgording  to 
the  proposals  of  the  Union.  So  far  go  the  lawful  means  of  the  Union,  assum- 
ing  the  strike  to  take  effect  after  the  expiration  of  the  legal  notice,  which  is  not 
always  the  case.  But  these  lawful  means  are  very  w’eak  when  there  are  w^orkers 
outside  the  Union,  or  when  members  separate  from  it  for  the  sake  of  the 
momentary  advantage  offered  by  the  bourgeoisie.  Especially  in  the  case  of 
partial  strikes  can  the  manufacturer  readily  secure  recruits  from  these  black 
sheep,  (who  are  known  as  knobsticks),  and  render  fruitless  the  efforts  of  the 
United  w'orkers.  Knobsticks  are  usually  threatened,  insulted,  beaten,  or 
otherwise  maltreated  by  the  members  of  the  Union;  intimidated,  in  short,  in 
every  way.  Prosecution  follows,  and  as  the  law-abiding  bourgeoisie  has  the 
power  in  its  own  hands,  the  force  of  the  Union  is  broken  almost  every  time 
by  the  first  unlawful  act,  the  first  judicial  procedure  against  its  members. 

The  history  of  these  Unions  is  a long  series  of  defeats  of  the  workingmen 
intenupted  by  a few  isolated  victories.  All  these  efforts  naturally  can- 
not  alter  the  economic  law  according  to  which  wages  are  determined  by  the 
relation  between  supply  and  demand  in  the  labor  market.  Hence  the  Unions 
remain  powerless  against  all  greai  forces  which  influence  this  relation.  In 
a commercial  crisis  the  Union  itself  must  reduce  wages  or  dissolve  wholly; 
and  in  a time  of  considerable  increase  in  the  demand  for  labor,  it  cannot  fix  the 
rate  of  w^ages  higher  than  would  be  reached  spontaneously  by  the  competition  of 
the  capitalists  among  themselves.  But  in  dealing  with  minor,  single  influences 
they  are  powerful.  If  the  employer  had  no  concentrated,  collective  Opposition 
to  expect,  he  would  in  his  own  interest  gradually  leduce  wages  to  a lower  and 
lower  point;  indeed,  the  battle  of  competition  which  he  has  to  wage  against  his 
fellow  manufacturers  would  force  him  to  do  so,  and  wages  would  soon  reach  the 
mihimum.  But  this  competition  of  the  manufacturers  among  themselves  is, 
tnider  average  conditionSy  somewhat  reslricted  by  the  Opposition  of  the  working- 
men. 

Every  manufacturer  knows  that  the  consequence  of  a reduction  not  justified 
by  conditions  to  which  his  competitors  also  are  subjected,  would  be  a strike, 
which  would  most  certainly  inj u re  him,  because  his  Capital  would  be  idle  as  long 
as  the  strike  lasted  and  his  machinery  would  be  rusting,  whereas  it  is  very 
doubtful  whether  he  could  in  such  a case  enforce  his  reduction.  Then  he  has 
the  certainty  that  if  he  should  succeed  his  competitors  would  follow  him,  reduc- 
ing  the  price  of  the  goods  so  produced,  and  thus  depriving  him  of  the  benefit  of 
his  policy.  Then,  too,  the  Unions  often  bring  about  a more  rapid  increase  of 
wages  after  a crisis  than  would  otherwise  follow.  For  the  manufacturer’s 
interest  is  to  delay  raising  wages  until  forced  by  competition,  but  now  the  work- 
ingmen demand  an  increased  v/age  as  soon  as  the  market  improves,  and  they 


146 


can  carry  their  point  by  reason  of  the  smaller  supply  of  workers  at  his  command 
under  such  circumstances.  But,  for  resistance  to  more  considerable  forces 
which  influence  the  labor  market,  the  Unions  are  powerless.  In  such  cases 
hunger  gradually  drives  the  strikers  to  resume  work  on  any  terms,  and  when 
once  a few  have  begun  the  force  of  the  Union  is  broken,  because  these  few 
knobsticks,  with  the  reserve  supplies  of  goods  in  the  market,  enable  the 
bourgeoisie  to  overcome  the  worst  effects  of  the  interruption  of  business.  The 
funds  of  the  Union  are  soon  exhausted  by  the  great  numbers  requiring  relief, 
the  credit  which  the  shop-keepers  give  at  high  interest  is  withdrawn  after  a 
time,  and  want  compels  the  workingman  to  place  himself  once  more  under  the 
yoke  of  the  bourgeoisie.  But  slrikes  end  disastrously  for  the  workers  mostly, 
because  the  manufacturers,  in  their  own  interest  (which  has,  be  it  said,  become 
their  interest  only  through  the  resistence  of  the  workers),  are  obliged  to  avoid  all 
useless  reductions,  while  the  workers  feel  in  every  reduction  imposed  by  the  state 
of  trade  a deterioration  of  their  condition  against  which  they  must  defend  them- 
selves  as  far  as  in  them  lies. 

It  will  be  asked-  “ VVhy,  then,  do  the  workers  strike  in  such  cases,  when  the 
uselessness  of  such  measures  is  so  evident?”  Simply  because  they  musi 
proLest  against  every  reduction  even  if  dictated  by  necessity;  because  they  feel 
bound  to  proclaim  that  they,  as  human  beings,  shall  not  be  made  10  bow  to  social 
circumstances,  but  social  condiiions  ought  to  yield  to  them  as  human  beings; 
because  silence  on  their  part  would  be  a recognition  of  these  social  con- 
ditions,  an  admission  of  the  right  of  the  bourgeoisie  to  exploit  the  workers  in 
good  times  and  let  them  starve  in  bad  ones.  Against  this  the  workingmen  must 
rebel  so  long  as  they  have  not  lost  all  human  feeling,  and  that  they  protest  in 
this  way  and  no  other  comes  of  their  being  practical  English  people  who  express 
themselves  in  action^  and  do  not,  like  German  theorists,  go  to  sleep  as  soon  as  their 
protest  is  properly  registered  and  placed  ad  acta  there  to  sleep  as  quietly  as  the  pro- 
testers  themselves.  The  active  resistance  of  the  English  workingmen  has  its  eft'ect 
in  holding  the  money  greed  of  the  bourgeoisie  within  certain  limits,  and  keeping 
alive  the  Opposition  of  the  workers  to  the  social  and  political  omnipotence  of  the 
bourgeoisie,  while  it  compels  the  admission  that  something  more  is  needed  than 
Trades  Unions  and  strikes  to  break  the  power  of  the  ruling  dass.  But  what 
gives  these  Unions  and  the  strikes  arising  from  them  their  real  importance  is 
this,  that  they  are  the  first  attempt  of  the  workers  to  abolish  Competition.  They 
imply  the  recognition  of  the  fact  that  the  supremacy  of  the  bourgeoisie  is  based 
wholly  upon  the  competition  of  the  workers  among  themselves;  i.  e.  upon  the 
cohesion  of  the  Proletariat.  And  precisely  because  they  direct  themselves 
against  the  vital  nerve  of  the  present  social  Order,  however  one-sidedly,  in  how  • 
ever  narrow  a way,  are  they  so  dangerous  to  this  social  Order.  The  woiking- 
man  cannot  attack  the  bourgeoisie  and  with  it  the  whole  existing  order  of 
society  at  any  sorer  point  than  this.  If  the  competition  of  the  workers  among 
themselves  is  destroyed,  if  all  determine  not  to  be  further  exploited  by  the 
bourgeoisie,  the  rule  of  property  is  at  an  end.  Wages  depend  upon  the  relation 


147 


of  demand  to  supply,  upon  tlie  accidental  state  of  the  labor  market,  simply 
because  the  workers  have  hitherto  been  content  to  be  trcated  as  chattels,  to  be 
boujjht  and  sold.  The  moment  the  workers  resolve  to  be  bought  and  sold  no 
longer,  when  in  the  determination  of  the  value  of  labor,  they  take  the  part  of 
men  possessed  of  a will  as  well  as  of  working  power,  at  that  moment  the  whole 
Political  Economy  of  to-day  is  at  an  end. 

The  laws  determining  the  rate  of  wages  would  indeed  come  into  force  again 
in  the  long  run,  if  the  workingmen  did  not  go  beyond  this  Step  of  abolishing 
competition  among  themselves.  But  they  must  go  beyv'^nd  that  unless  they  are 
prepared  to  recede  again  and  to  allow  competition  among  themselves  to  re- 
appear.  Thus  once  advanced  so  far,  necessity  compels  them  to  go  further;  to 
abolish  not  only  one  element  of  competition,  but  competition  itself  altogether, 
and  that  they  will  do. 

The  workers  are  coming  to  perceive  more  clearly  with  every  day  how  competi- 
tion affects  them;  they  see  far  more  clearly  than  the  bourgeois  that  competition 
of  the  capitalists  among  themselves  presses  upon  the  w’orkers,  too,  by  bringing 
on  commercial  crises,  and  that  this  element  of  competition,  too,  must  be 
abolished  They  will  soon  learn  how  they  have  to  go  about  it. 

That  these  Unions  contribute  greatly  to  nourish  the  bitter  hatred  of  the 
workers  against  the  property-holding  dass  need  hardly  be  said.  From  them 
proceed  therefore,  with  or  without  the  connivance  of  the  leading  members,  in 
times  of  unusual  excitement,  individual  actions  which  can  be  explained  only  by 
hatred  wrought  to  tue  pitch  of  despair,  by  a wild  passion  overwhelming  all 
restraints.  Of  this  sort  are  the  attacks  with  vitriol  mentioned  in  the  foregoing 
pages,  and  a series  of  others,  of  which  I shall  eite  severÄl.  In  1831,  during  a 
violent  labor  movement,  young  Ashton,  a manufacturer  in  Hyde,  near  Man- 
chester, was  shot  one  evening  when  Crossing  a field,  and  no  trace  of  the  assassin 
discovered.  There  is  no  doubt  that  this  was  a deed  of  vengeance  of  the  work- 
ingmen. Incendiarisms  and  attempted  explosions  are  very  common.  On 
Friday,  September  29th,  1843,  an  attempt  was  made  to  blow  up  the  saw  works 
of  Padgin,  in  Howard  Street,  Sheffield.  A closed  iron  tube  füled  with  powder 
w’as  the  means  employed,  and  the  damage  was  considerable.  On  the  following 
day  a similar  attempt  was  made  in  Ibbetson  s knife  and  file  works  at  Shales 
Moor,  near  Sheffield.  Mr.  Ibbetson  had  made  himself  obnoxious  by  an  active 
participation  in  bourgeois  movements,  by  low  wages,  the  exclusive  employment 
of  knobsticks,  and  the  exploitation  of  the  Poor  Law  for  his  own  benefit.  Ile 
had  reported,  during  the  crisis  of  1842,  such  operatives  as  refused  to  accept 
reduced  wages,  as  persons  who  could  find  work  but  would  not  take  it,  and  were 
therefore  not  deserving  of  relief,  so  compelling  the  acceptance  of  a reduction. 
Considerable  damage  was  inflicted  by  the  explosion,  and  all  the  workingmen 
who  came  to  view  it  regretted  only  ‘*  that  the  whole  concern  was  not  blown  into 
the  air."  On  Friday,  October  6th,  1844,  an  attempt  to  set  fire  to  the  factory  of 
Ainsworth  and  Crompton,  at  Bolton,  did  no  damage;  it  was  the  third  or  fourth 
attempt  in  the  same  factory  within  a very  short  time.  In  the  meeting  of  the 


Town  Council  of  Sheffield,  on  Wednesday,  January  loth,  1844,  the  Com- 
missioner  of  Police  exhibited  a cast-iron  machine,  made  for  the  express  purpose 
of  producing  an  explosion,  and  found  filled  with  four  pounds  of  powder,  and  a 
fuse  which  had  been  lighted  but  had  not  taken  effect,  in  the  works  of  Mr. 
Kitchen,  Earl  Street,  Sheffield.  On  Snnday,  January  20lh,  1844,  an  explosion, 
caused  by  a package  of  powder,  took  place  in  the  sawmill  of  Bentley  and  White, 
at  Bury,  in  Lancashire,  and  produced  considerable  damage.  On  Thursday, 
February  ist,  1844,  the  Soho  Wheel  Works,  in  Sheffield,  were  set  on  fire  and 
burnt  up. 

Here  are  six  such  cases  in  four  months,  all  of  which  have  their  sole  origin  in 
the  embitterment  of  the  workingmen  against  the  employers.  What  sort  of  a social 
state  it  must  be  in  which  such  things  are  possible  I need  hardly  say.  These 
facts  are  proof  enough  that  in  England,  even  in  good  business  years,  such  as 
1843,  the  social  war  is  avowed  and  openly  carried  on,  and  still  the  English 
bourgeoisie  does  not  stop  to  reflect!  But  the  case  which  speaks  most  loudly  is 
that  of  the  Glasgow  Thugs*  which  came  up  before  the  Assizes  from  the  3d  to 
the  iith  of  January,  1838.  It  appears  from  the  proceedings  that  the  Cotton 
Spinners’  Union  which  existed  here,  from  the  year  1816,  possessed  rare  Organi- 
zation and  power.  The  meinbers  were  bound  by  an  oath  to  adhere  to  the 
decision  of  the  majority,  and  had  during  every  turnout  a secret  committee 
which  was  unknown  to  the  mass  of  the  members,  and  controlled  the  funds  of  the 
Union  absolutely.  This  committee  fixed  a price  upon  the  heads  of  knobsticks 
and  obnoxious  manufacturers  and  upon  incendiarisms  in  mills.  A mill  was 
thus  set  on  fire  in  which  female  knobsticks  were  employed  in  spinning  in  the 
place  of  men;  a Mrs.  McPherson,  mother  of  one  of  these  girls,  was  murdered, 
and  both  murderers  sent  to  America  at  the  expense  of  the  association.  As 
early  as  1820,  a knobstick,  named  Maclnarry,  was  shot  at  and  Mounded,  for 
which  deed  the  doer  received  twenty  pounds  from  the  Union,  but  was  discovered 
and  transported  for  life.  h'inally,  in  1837,  in  May,  disturbances  occurred  in 
consequence  of  a turnout  in  the  Oatbank  and  Mile  End  factories,  in  which  per- 
haps  a dozen  knobsticks  were  maltreated.  ln  July,  of  the  same  year,  the 
disturbances  still  continued,  and  a certain  Smith,  a knobstick,  was  so  maltreated 
that  he  died.  The  committee  was  now  arrested,  an  investigation  begun,  and 
the  leading  members  found  guilty  of  participation  in  conspiracies,  maltreat- 
ment  of  knobsticks,  and  incendiarism  in  the  mill  of  James  and  Francis 
Wood,  and  they  were  transported  for  seven  years.  What  do  our  good  Germans 
say  to  this  story 

1.  So  called  from  the  East  Indian  tribe  whose  only  trade  is  the  murder  of  all  the  strangers  who 
fall  in  its  hands. 

2.  “ What  kmd  of  wild  justice  must  it  be  in  the  hearts  of  these  men  that  prompts  them,  with 
cold  deliberation,  m conclave  assembled,  to  dooin  their  brother  workman,  as  the  desert'^r  of  his 
Order  and  his  order’s  cause,  to  die  a traitor’s  and  a deserter’s  death,  have  him  executed.  in  default 
of  any  public  judge  and  hangman,  then  by  a secret  one;  like  your  old  Chivalry  Fehmgericht, 
and  Secret  Tribunal,  suddenly  revived  in  this  stränge  guise;  suddenly  rising  once  more  on  the 
astonished  eye,  dressed  not  now  in  mail  shirts  but  in  fustian  jackets,  meeting  not  in  Wesiphalian 
forests,  but  in  the  paved  Gallowgate  of  (jlasgow  I Such  teniper  must  be  widespread  virulent 
among  the  many  when,  even  in  its  worst  acme,  it  can  take  such  form  in  the  few.*'  Carlyle 
Chiirtism,  p.  40. 


The  property  holding  dass,  and  especially  the  maniifacturing-  portion  of  it 
whidi  comes  into  direct  contact  with  the  workingmen,  declainis  with  the 
greatest  violence  against  these  Unions,  and  is  constantly  trying  to  prove  their 
uselessness  to  the  workingmen  upon  groiinds  which  are  economically  pcrfectly 
correct  but  for  that  very  reason  partially  mistaken,  and  for  ihe  workingman’s 
understanding  totally  without  effect.  The  very  zeal  of  the  bourgeoisie  shows 
that  it  is  not  disinterested  in  the  matter;  and  apart  from  the  indirect  loss 
involved  in  a turnout,  the  state  of  the  case  is  such  that  whatever  goes  into  the 
pockets  of  the  manufacturers  comes  of  necessity  out  of  those  of  the  worker. 
So  that  even  if  the  vvorkingmen  did  not  know  that  the  Unions  hold  the  emulation 
of  their  masters  in  the  reduction  of  vvages,  at  least  in  a measure  in  check,  they 
would  still  stand  by  theUnions,  simply  to  the  injury  of  their  enemies,  the  manufac- 
turers. In  war,  the  injury  of  one  party  is  the  benefit  of  the  other,  and  since 
the  workingmen  are  on  a war-footing  towards  their  employers,  they  do  merely 
wdial  the  great  potentates  do  when  they  get  into  a quarrel.  Beyond  all  other 
bourgeois  is  our  friend,  Dr.  Ure,  the  most  furious  enemy  of  the  Unions.  He 
foams  with  Indignation  at  the  “ secret  tribunals  ” of  the  cotton  Spinners,  the 
most  powerful  section  of  the  workers,  tribunals  which  boast  their  ability  to 
paralyze  every  disobedient  manufacturer;  ^ “ and  so  bring  ruin  on  the  man  who 
had  given  them  profitable  employment  for  many  a year.”  He  speaks  of  a time^ 
“when  the  inventive  head  and  the  sustaining  heart  of  trade  were  held  in  bond- 
age  by  the  unruly  lower  members.  ” A pity  that  the  English  workingmen  will 
not  let  themselves  be  pacified  so  easily  with  thy  fable  as  the  Roman  Plebs,  thou 
modern  Menenius  Agrippa!  Finally,  he  relates  the  following:  At  one  time 
the  coarse  mule-spinners  had  misused  their  power  beyond  all  endurance.  High 
wages,  instead  of  awakening  thankfulness  towards  the  manufacturers  and  lead- 
ing  to  intellectual  improvement  (in  harmless  study  of  Sciences  useful  to  the 
bourgeoisie,  of  course),  in  many  cases  produced  pride  and  supplied  funds  for 
supporting  rebellious  spirits  in  strikes  with  which  a number  of  manufacturers 
were  visited  one  after  the  other  in  a purely  arbitrary  manner.  Düring  an  un- 
happy  dislurbance  of  this  sort  in  Hyde,  Dukinfield,  and  the  surrounding  neigh- 
borhood,  the  manufacturers  of  the  districts  anxious  lest  they  should  be  driven 
from  Ihe  market  by  the  French,  Belgians  and  Americans,  addressed  themselves 
to  the  machine  Works  of  Sharp,  Roberts  & Co.,  and  requested  Mr.  Sharp  to 
turn  his  inventive  mind  to  the  construction  of  an  automatic  mule  in  Order  “ to 
emancipate  the  trade  from  galling  slavery  and  impending  ruin.”^ 

“ He  produced  in  the  course  of  a few  months  a machine  apparently  instinct 
with  thought,  feeling  and  tact  of  the  experienced  w'orkman— which  even  in  its 
infancy  displayed  a new  principle  of  regulation,  ready  in  its  mature  state  to  ful- 
fil  the  functions  of  a finished  Spinner.  Thus  the  fron  Man,  as  the  operatives 
fitly  call  it,  Sprung  out  of  the  hands  of  our  modern  Prometheus  at  the  bidding  of 

1.  Dr.  Ure,  Philoso'phy  of  Manufactzire,  p.  282. 

2.  Dr.  Ure,  PJiilosophy  of  Manvf acture,  p.  282. 

3.  Dr.  Ure,  P hilosophy  of  Manufacture,  p.  367. 


Minerva— a creation  destined  to  restore  Order  among  the  industrioiis  classes,  and 
to  confirm  to  Great  Britain  the  empire  of  art.  The  news  of  this  Herculean 
prodigy  spread  dismay  through  the  Union,  and  even  long  before  it  left  its  cradle, 
so  to  speck,  it  strangled  the  Hydra  of  misrule.”^ 

Ure  proves  further  that  the  invention  of  the  machine  with  which  four  and  five 
colors  are  printed  at  once,  was  a result  of  the  disturbances  among  the  calico 
Printers,  that  the  refractoriness  of  the  yarn  dre^sers  in  the  power-loom  weaving 
mills  gave  rise  to  a new  and  perfected  machine  for  warp  dressing,  and  mentions 
several  othcr  such  cases.  A few  pages  earlier  this  same  Ure  givcs  himself  a 
great  deal  of  trouble  to  prove  in  detail  that  machinery  is  beneficial  to  the 
workers!  But  Ure  is  not  the  only  one;  in  the  Factory  Report,  Mr.  Ashworth, 
the  manufacturer,  and  many  another,  lose  no  opportunity  to  express  their  wrath 
against  the  Unions.  These  wise  bourgeois,  like  certain  governments,  trace 
every  movement  which  they  do  not  understand,  to  the  influence  of  ill-intentioned 
Agitators,  demagogues,  traitors,  shrieking  idiots  and  ill-balanced  youth.  They 
declare  that  the  paid  agents  of  the  Unions  are  interested  in  the  agitation  because 
they  live  upon  it,  as  though  the  necessity  for  this  payment  were  not  forced 
upon  them  by  the  bourgeoisie  which  will  give  such  men  no  employment! 

The  incredible  frequency  of  these  strikes  proves  best  of  all  to  what  extent  the 
social  war  has  broken  out  ail  over  England.  No  week  passes,  scarcely  a day, 
indeed,  in  which  there  is  not  a strike  in  some  direction,  now  against  a reduction, 
then  against  a refusal  to  raise  the  rate  of  wages,  again  by  reason  of  the  employ- 
ment of  knobsticks  or  the  continuance  of  abuses,  sometimes  against  new 
machinery,  or  for  a hundred  other  reasons.  These  strikes  at  first  skirmishes 
sometinits  result  in  weighty  struggies;  they  decide  nothing,  it  is  true,  but  they 
are  iLe  strongest  proof  that  the  decisive  battle  between  bourgeoisie  and 
Proletariat  is  approaching.  They  are  the  military  school  of  the  workingmen  in 
which  they  prepare  themselves  for  the  great  struggle  which  cannot  be  avoided; 
they  are  the  pronunciamentos  of  single  branches  of  industry  that  these  too  have 
joined  the  labor  movement.  And  when  one  examines  a year’s  file  of  the 
Northern  Star,  the  only  sheet  which  reports  all  the  movements  of  the 
Proletariat,  one  finds  that  all  the  proletarians  of  the  towns  and  of  country 
manufacture  have  United  in  associations  and  have  protested,  from  time  to  time, 
by  means  of  a general  strike,  against  the  supremacy  of  the  bourgeoisie.  And 
as  schools  of  war.  the  Unions  are  unexcelled.  In  them  is  developed  the  peculiar 
courage  of  the  English.  It  is  said  on  the  Continent  that  the  English,  and 
especially  the  workingmen,  are  cowardly,  that  they  cannot  carry  out  a revoliition 
because,  unlike  the  French,  they  do  not  riot  at  intervals,  because  they 
apparently  accept  the  bourgeois  regime  so  quietly.  This  is  a complete  mistake. 
l'he  English  workingmen  are  second  to  none  in  courage;  they  are  quite  as  rest- 
less  as  the  French,  but  they  fight  differently.  The  French,  who  are  by  nalure 
political,  struggle  against  social  evils  with  political  weapons;  the  English,  for 


I Ure,  Philosophy  of  Manufacturts,  p.  366,  et  seq. 


I5I 


whom  politics  exist  only  as  a matter  of  interest,  solejy  in  the  interest  of  bourgeois 
society,  fight,  not  against  the  government  biit  directly  against  the  bourgcoisie; 
and  for  the  time,  this  can  be  done  only  in  a peaceful  manner.  Stagnation  in 
business  and  the  want  consequent  upon  it,  engendered  the  revolt  at  Lyons,  in 
1834,  in  favor  of  the  Republic:  in  1842,  at  Manchester,  a similar  cause  gave 
rise  to  a universal  turnout  for  the  Charter  and  higher  wages.  That  courage  is 
required  for  a turnout,  often  indeed  much  loftier  courage,  much  bolder,  firmer 
determination  than  for  an  insurrection,  is  self-evident.  It  is,  in  truth,  no  trifle 
for  a workingman  who  knows  want  from  experience,  to  face  it  with  wife  and 
children,  to  endure  hunger  and  wretchedness  for  months  together,  and  stand 
firm  and  unshaken  through  it  all.  What  is  death,  what  the  galleys  which  await 
the  French  revolutionist,  in  comparison  with  gradual  starvation,  with  the  daily 
sight  of  a Starving  family,  with  the  certainty  of  future  revenge  on  the  part  of  the 
bourgeoisie,  all  of  which  the  English  workingman  chooses  in  preference  to  sub- 
jection  under  the  yoke  of  the  property  holding  dass?  We  shall  meet  later  an 
example  of  this  obstinate  unconquerable  courage  of  men  who  surrender  to  force 
only  when  all  resistance  would  be  aimless  and  unmeaning.  And  prccisely  in 
this  quiet  perseverance,  in  this  lasting  determination  which  undergoes  a hundred 
tests  every  day,  the  English  workingman  developes  that  side  of  his  character 
which  commands  most  respect.  People  who  endure  so  much  to  bend  one  single 
bourgeois  will  be  able  to  break  the  power  of  the  whole  bourgeoisie. 

But  apart  from  that,  the  English  workingman  has  proved  his  courage  often 
enough.  That  the  turnout  of  1842  had  no  further  results  came  from  the  fact 
that  the  men  were  in  part  forced  into  it  by  the  bourgeoisie,  in  part  neither  clear 
nor  United  as  to  its  object.  But  aside  from  this,  they  have  shown  their  courage 
often  enough  when  the  matter  in  question  was  a specific,  social  one.  Not  to 
mention  the  Welsh  insurrection  of  1839,  a complete  battle  was  waged  in  Man- 
chester, in  May,  1843,  during  my  residence  thcre.  Pauling  & Ilenfrey,  a 
brick  firm,  had  increased  the  size  of  the  bricks  without  raising  wages,  and  sold 
the  bricks,  of  course,  at  a higher  price.  The  workers,  to  whom  higher  wages 
w’ere  refused,  Struck  work,  and  the  Brickmakers’  Union  declared  war  upon  the 
firm.  The  firm  meanwhile  succeeded,  with  great  difficulty,  in  securing  hands 
from  the  neighborhood,  and  among  the  knobsticks,  against  whom  in  the  begin- 
ning  intimidation  was  used  the  proprietors  set  twelve  men  to  guard  the  yard, 
all  ex-soldiers  and  policemen,  armed  with  guns.  When  intimidation  proved 
unavailing,  the  brick  yard,  which  lay  scaiicely  a hundred  paces  from  an  infantry 
barracks,  was  stormed  at  ten  o’clock  one  night  by  a crowd  of  brickmakers,  who 
advanced  in  military  order,  the  first  ranks  armed  with  guns.  They  forced  their 
way  in,  fired  upon  the  watchmen  as  soon  as  they  saw  them,  stamped  out  the 
wet  bricks  spread  out  to  dry,  tore  down  the  piled  up  rows  of  those  already  dry, 
demolished  everything  which  came  in  their  way,  pressed  into  a building,  where 
they  destroyed  the  furniture  and  maltreated  the  wife  of  the  overlooker  who  was 
living  there.  The  watchmen  meanwhile  had  placed  themselvcs  behind  a hedge,. 
whence  they  could  fire  safely  and  without  interruption.  The  assailants  stooci 


152 


before  a burning  brick  kiln  which  threw  a bright  light  upon  Ihem,  so  tbat  every 
ball  of  their  enemies  struck  home,  while  every  one  of  their  own  shots  missed  its 
mark.  Nevertheless  the  firing  lasted  half  an  honr  until  the  ammunition  was 
exhausted,  and  the  object  of  the  visit,  the  demolition  of  all  the  destructible 
objects  in  the  yard,  was  attained.  Then  the  military  approached,  and  the  brick- 
makers  withdrew  to  Eccles,  three  miles  from  Manchester.  A short  time  before 
reaching  Eccles  they  held  roll  call,  and  each  man  was  called  according  to  his 
number  in  the  section  when  they  separated,  only  to  fall  the  more  certainly  into 
the  hands  of  the  police,  who  were  approaching  from  all  sides.  The  number  of 
the  wounded  must  have  been  very  considerable,  but  those  only  could  be  counted 
who  were  arrested.  One  of  these  had  received  three  bullets  (in  the  thigh,  the 
calf  and  the  shoulder),  and  had  traveled  in  spite  of  them  more  than  four  miles 
on  foot.  These  people  have  proved  that  they,  too,  possess  revolutionary 
courage,  and  do  not  shun  a rain  of  bullets.  And  when  an  unarmed 
multitude  without  a precise  aim  common  to  them  all,  are  held  in  check  in  a 
shut-off  market  place,  whose  outlets  are  guarded  by  a couple  of  policemen  and 
dragoons,  as  happened  in  1842,  this  by  no  means  proves  a want  of  courage.  On 
the  contrary,  the  multitude  woiild  have  stirred  quite  as  little  if  the  servants  of 
public  {i,  e.  of  the  bourgeois)  order  had  not  been  present.  Where  the  working 
people  have  a specific  end  in  view,  they  show  courage  enough;  as,  for  instance, 
in  the  attack  upon  Birley’s  mill,  which  had  later  to  be  protected  by  artillery. 

In  this  Connection  a word  or  two  as  to  the  respect  for  the  law  in  England. 
True,  the  law  is  sacred  to  the  bourgeois,  for  it  is  his  own  composition,  enacted 
with  his  consent,  and  for  his  benefit  and  protection.  He  knows  that,  even  if  an 
individual  law  should  injure  him,  the  whole  fabric  protects  his  interests;  and 
more  than  all,  the  sanctity  of  the  law,  the  sacredness  of  order  as  established  by 
the  active  will  of  one  part  of  society  and  the  passive  acceptance  of  the  other  is 
the  strongest  support  of  his  social  position.  Because  the  English  bourgeois 
finds  himself  reproduced  in  his  law,  as  he  does  in  his  God,  the  policeman’s 
truncheon  which,  in  a certain  measure,  is  his  own  club,  has  for  him  a wonder- 
fully  soothing  power.  But  for  the  workingman  quite  otherwise!  The  working- 
man  knows  too  well,  has  learned  from  too  oft-repeated  experience,  that  the  law 
is  a rod  which  the  bourgeois  has  prepared  for  him;  and  when  he  is  not  com- 
pelled  to  do  so,  he  never  appeals  to  the  law.  It  is  ridiculous  to  assert  that  the 
English  workingman  fears  the  police  when  every  week  in  Manchester  policemen 
are  beaten,  and  last  year  an  attempt  was  made  to  storm  a Station  house  secured 
by  iron  doors  and  shutters.  The  power  of  the  police  in  the  turnout  of  1842  lay, 
as  I have  already  said,  in  the  want  of  a clearly  defined  object  on  the  part  of  the 
workingmen  themselves. 

Since  the  workingmen  do  not  respect  the  law,  but  slmply  submit  to  its  power 
when  they  cannot  change  it,  it  is  most  natural  that  they  should  at  least  propose 
alterations  in  it,  that  they  should  wish  to  put  a proletarian  law  in  the  place  of 
the  legal  fabric  of  the  bourgeoisie.  This  proposed  law  is  the  people’s  Charter, 
which  in  form  is  purely  political,  and  demands  a democratic  basis  for  the  House 


153 


of  Commons.  Chartism  is  the  compact  form  of  their  Opposition  to  the 
boiirgeoisie.  In  the  Unions  and  turnouts  Opposition  always  remained  isolated; 
it  was  single  workingmen  or  sections  who  fought  a single  bourgeois.  If  the 
fight  became  general,  this  was  scarcely  by  the  intention  of  the  workingmen;  or, 
when  it  did  happen  intentionally,  Chartism  was  at  the  bottom  of  it.  But  in 
Chartism  it  is  the  whole  working  dass  which  arises  against  the  bourgeoisie,  and 
attacks,  first  of  all,  the  political  power,  the  legislative  rampart  with  which  the 
bourgeoisie  has  surrounded  itself.  Chartism  has  proceeded  from  the  Demo- 
cratic  party  which  arose  between  1780  and  1790  with  and  in  the  Proletariat, 
gained  strength  during  the  French  Revolution,  and  came  forth  after  the  peace 
as  the  Radical  party.  It  had  its  headquarters  then  in  Birmingham  and  Man- 
chester, and  later  in  London,  extorted  the  Reform  Bill  from  the  Oligarchs  of 
the  old  Parliament  by  a Union  with  the  Liberal  bourgeoisie,  and  has  steadily 
Consolidated  itself,  since  then,  as  a more  and  more  pronounccd  workingmen’s 
party  in  Opposition  to  the  bourgeoisie.  In  1835  a committee  of  the  general 
Workingmen’s  Association  of  London,  with  William  Lovett  at  its  head,  drew 
up  the  people’s  Charter,  whose  six  points  are  as  follows:  i.)  Universal  suffrage 
for  every  man  who  is  of  age,  sane  and  unconvicted  of  crime;  2.)  Annual  Parlia- 
ments;  3.)  Payment  of  members  of  Parliament  to  enable  poor  men  to  stand  for 
election;  4.)  Voting  by  ballot  to  prevent  bribery  and  intimidation  by  the 
bourgeoisie;  5.)  Equal  electoral  districts  to  secure  equal  representation;  and  6.) 
Abolition  of  the  even  now  merely  nominal  property  qualification  of  ;[f3oo  in 
land  for  candidates  in  Order  to  make  every  voter  eligible.  These  six  points 
which  are  all  limited  to  the  reconstitution  of  the  Plouse  of  Commons,  harmless 
as  they  seem,  are  sufficient  to  overthrow  the  whole  English  Constitution,  Queen 
and  Lords  included.  The  so-called  monarchical  and  aristocratic  elements  of 
the  Constitution  can  maintain  themselves  only  because  the  bourgeoisie  has  an 
interest  in  the  continuance  of  their  sham  existence;  and  more  than  a sham  exist- 
ence  neither  possesses  to-day.  But  as  soon  as  real  public  opinion  in  its  totality 
backs  the  House  of  Commons,  as  soon  as  the  Ilouse  of  Commons  incorporates 
the  will  not  of  the  bourgeoisie  alone  but  of  the  whole  nation,  it  will  absorb  the 
whole  power  so  completely  that  the  last  halo  must  fall  from  the  head  of  the 
monarch  and  the  aristocracy.  The  English  workingman  respects  neither  Lords 
nor  Queen.  The  bourgeois,  while  in  reality  allowing  them  but  litrle  influence, 
yet  offers  to  them  personally  a sham  worship.  The  English  Chartist  is  politic- 
ally  a republican,  though  he  rarely  or  never  mentions  the  word,  while  he 
sympathizes  with  the  republican  parties  of  all  countries  .and  calls  himself  in 
preference  a democrat.  But  he  is  more  than  a mere  republican,  his  democracy 
is  not  simply  political. 

Chartism  was  from  the  beginning  in  1835,  chiefly  a movement  among  the 
workingmen,  though  not  yet  sharply  separated  from  the  bourgeoisie.  The 
Radicalism  of  the  workers  went  hand  in  hand  with  the  Radicalism  of  the 
bourgeoisie;  the  Charter  was  the  shibboleth  of  both.  They  held  their  National 
Convention  every  year  in  common,  seeming  to  be  one  party.  The  lower  middle 


154 


dass  was  just  then  in  a very  bellicose  and  violent  state  of  mind  in  consequence 
of  the  disappointment  over  the  Reform  Bill  and  of  the  bad  business  years  of 
1837 — 1839,  and  viewed  the  boisterous  Chartist  agitation  with  a very  favorable 
eye.  Of  the  vehemence  of  this  agitation  no  onc  in  Germany  has  any  idea.  The 
people  were  called  upon  to  arm  themselves,  were  frequently  urged  to  revolt; 
pikes  were  got  ready  as  in  the  French  Revolution,  and  in  1838,  one  Stephens,  a 
Methodist  parson,  said  to  the  assembled  working  people  of  Manchester: 

“ You  have  no  need  to  fear  the  power  of  government,  the  soldiers,  bayonets 
and  cannon  that  are  at  the  disposal  of  your  oppressors;  you  have  a weapon  that 
is  far  mightier  than  all  these,  a weapon  against  which  bayonets  and  cannon  are 
powerless,  and  a child  of  ten  years  can  wield  it.  You  have  only  to  take  acouple 
of  matches  and  a bündle  of  straw  dipped  in  pitch,  and  I will  see  what  the 
government  and  its  hundreds  of  thousands  of  soldiers  will  do  against  this  one 
weapon  if  it  is  used  boldly,” 

As  early  as  that  year  the  peculiarly  social  character  of  the  workingmen’s 
Chartism  manifested  itself.  The  same  Stephens  said,  in  a meeting  of  200,000 
men  on  Kersall  Moor,  the  Mons  Sacer  of  Manchester: 

“Chartism,  my  friends,  is  110  political  movement,  where  the  main  point  is 
your  getting  the  bailot.  Chartism  is  a knife  and  fork  question,  the  Charter 
means  a good  house,  good  food  and  drink,  prosperity  and  short  working  hours.’' 

The  movements  against  the  New  Poor  Law  and  for  the  Ten  Hours  Bill  were 
already  in  the  dosest  relation  to  Chartism.  In  all  the  meetings  of  that  time  the 
Tory  Gastier  was  active,  and  hundreds  of  petitions  for  improvements  of  the 
social  condition  of  the  workers  were  circulated  along  with  the  national  petition 
for  the  People’s  Charter  adopted  in  Birmingham.  In  1839  agitation  con- 
tinued  as  vigorously  as  ever,  and  when  it  began  to  relax  somewhat  at  the  end  of 
the  year,  Bussey,  Taylor  and  Frost  hastened  to  call  forth  uprisings  simul- 
taneously  in  the  North  of  England,  in  Yorkshire  and  Wales.  Frost’s  plan 
being  betrayed,  he  was  obliged  to  open  hostilities  prematurely.  Those  in  the 
North  heard  of  the  failure  of  his  attempt  in  time  to  withdraw.  Two  months 
later  in  January,  1840,  several  so-called  spy  outbreaks  took  place  in  Sheffield 
and  Bradford,  in  Yorkshire,  and  the  excitement  gradually  subsided.  Mean- 
while  the  bourgeoisie  turned  its  attention  to  more  practical  projects,  morc  profit- 
able for  itself,  namely  the  Corn  Laws.  The  Anti-Corn  Law  Association  was 
formed  in  Manchester,  and  the  consequence  was  a relaxation  of  the  tie  between 
the  Radical  bourgeoisie  and  the  Proletariat.  The  workingmen  soon  perceived 
that  for  them  the  abolition  of  the  Corn  Laws  could  be  of  little  use,  while  very 
advantageous  to  the  bourgeoisie;  and  they  could  therefore  not  be  won  for  the 
project. 

The  crisis  of  1842  came  on.  Agitation  was  once  more  as  vigorous  as  in 
1839.  But  this  time  the  rieh  manufacti.rlng  bourgeoisie,  which  was  suffering 
severely  under  this  particular  crisis,  took  part  in  it.  The  Anti-Corn  Law 
League,  as  it  was  now  called,  assumed  a decidedly  revolutionary  tone.  Its 
Journals  and  agitators  used  undisguisedly  revolutionary  language,  one  very  good 
reason  for  which  was  the  fact  that  the  Conservative  party  had  been  in  power 


55 


since  1841.  As  the  Chartists  had  previously  done,  these  bourgeois  leaders 
called  upon  the  peopie  to  rebel;  and  the  workingmen  who  had  most  to  suffer 
from  the  crisis  were  not  inactive,  as  the  year’s  national  petition  for  the  charter 
vvith  its  three  and  a half  million  signatures  proves.  In  short,  if  the  two  Radical 
parties  had  been  somewhat  estranged,  they  noAr  allied  themselves  once  more. 
At  a meeting  of  Liberais  and  Chartists  held  in  Manchester,  February  I5th, 
1842,  a Petition  urging  th'^  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws  and  the  adoption  of  the 
Charter  was  drawn  up.  The  next  day  it  was  adopted  by  both  parties.  The 
spring  and  summer  passed  amidst  violent  agitation  and  increasing  distress. 
The  bourgeoisie  was  determined  to  carry  the  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws  with  the 
help  of  the  crisis,  the  want  which  it  entailed  and  the  general  excitement.  At 
this  time,  the  Conservatives  being  in  power,  the  Liberal  bourgeois  half  aban- 
doned  their  lawabiding  habits;  they  wished  to  bring  about  a revolution  with  the 
help  of  the  workers.  The  workingmen  were  to  take  the  chestnuts  from  the  fire 
to  save  the  bourgeoisie  from  burning  their  own  fingers.  The  old  idea  of  a 
“holy  month,”  a general  strike,  broached  in  1859  by  the  Chartists,  has  revived. 
This  time,  however,  it  was  not  the  workingmen  who  wished  to  quit  work,  but 
the  manufacturers  who  wished  to  dose  their  mills  and  send  the  operatives  into 
the  country  parishes  upon  the  property  of  the  aristocracy,  thus  forcing  the 
Tory  Parliament  and  Tory  Mimstry  to  repeal  the  Corn  Laws.  A revolt 
would  naturally  have  followed,  but  the  bourgeoisie  stood  safely  in  the 
background  and  could  await  its  success  without  compromising  itself  if  the  worst 
came  to  the  worst.  At  the  end  of  July  business  began  to  improve;  it  was  high 
time.  In  order  not  to  lose  the  opportunity,  three  firms  in  Staleybridge  reduced 
wages  in  spite  of  the  improvement.  ^ Whether  they  did  so  of  their  own  motion 
or  in  agreement  with  other  manufacturers,  especially  those  of  the  League,  I do 
not  know.  Two  withdrew  after  a time,  but  the  third,  William  Bailey  and 
Brothers,  stood  firm,  and  told  the  objecting  operatives  that  “ if  this  did  not 
please  them,  they  had  better  go  and  play  a bit."  This  contemptuous  answer 
the  hands  received  with  cheers.  They  left  the  mill,  paraded  through  the  town, 
and  called  upon  all  their  fellows  to  quit  work.  In  a few  hours  every  mill  stood 
idle,  and  the  operatives  marched  to  Mottram  Moor  to  hold  a meeting.  This 
was  on  August  5th.  August  8th  they  proceeded  to  Ashton  and  Hyde  flve 
ihousand  strong,  closed  all  the  mills  and  coal-pits,  and  held  meetings  in  which, 
however,  the  question  discussed  was  not,  as  the  bourgeoisie  had  hoped,  the 
repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws,  but  “a  fair  day ’s  wages  for  a fair  day ’s  work.” 
August  Qth  they  proceeded  to  Manchester,  unresisted  by  the  authorities,  (all 
Liberais),  and  closed  the  mills;  on  the  iith  they  were  in  Stockport,  where  they 
met  with  the  first  resistance  as  they  were  storming  the  workhouse,  the  favorite 
child  of  the  bourgeoisie.  On  the  same  day  there  was  a general  strike  and  dis- 
turbance  in  Bolton,  to  which  the  authorities  here,  too,  made  no  resistance. 
Soon  the  uprising  spread  throughout  the  whole  manufacturing  district,  and  all 

I.  Compare  Reports  of  Chambers  of  Commerce  of  Manchester  and  Leeds  at  the  end  of  July 
and  beginniiig  of  August. 


156 


employments,  except  harvesting  and  the  production  of  food,  came  to  a stand- 
still. But  the  rebellious  operatives  were  quiet.  They  were  driven  into  this 
revolt  without  wishing  it.  The  manufacturers,  with  the  single  exception  of  the 
Tory  Birley,  in  Manchester,  had,  contrary  to  their  cusiom,  not  opposed  it.  The 
thing  had  begun  without  the  workingmen’s  having  any  distinct  end  in  view,  for 
which  reason  they  were  all  United  in  the  determination  not  to  be  shot  at  for  the 
benefit  of  the  Corn  Law  repealing  bourgeoisie.  For  the  rest,  some  wanted  to 
carry  the  Charter,  others  who  thought  this  premature  wished  merely  to  secure 
the  wages  rate  of  1840.  On  this  point  the  whole  insurrection  was  wrecked.  If 
it  had  been  from  the  beginning  an  intentional,  determined  workingmen’s  insur- 
rection, it  would  surely  have  carried  its  point;  but  these  crowds  who  had  been 
driven  into  the  streets  by  their  masters,  against  their  own  will,  and  with  no 
definite  purpose,  could  no  nothing.  Meanwhile  the  bourgeoisie,  which  had  not 
moved  a finger  to  carry  the  alliance  of  February  I5th  into  effect,  soon  perceived 
that  the  workingmen  did  not  propose  to  become  its  tools,  and  that  the  illogical 
manner  in  which  it  had  abandoned  its  lawabiding  standpoint  threatened  danger. 
It  therefore  resumed  its  lawabiding  attitude,  and  placed  itself  upon  the  side  of 
government  as  against  the  workingmen. 

It  swore  in  trusty  retainers  as  special  constables,  (the  German  merchants  in 
Manchester  took  part  in  this  ceremony,  and  marched  in  an  entirely  superfluous 
manner  through  the  city  with  their  cigars  in  their  mouths  and  thick  truncheons 
in  their  hands).  It  gave  the  command  to  fire  upon  the  crowd  in  Preston,  so 
that  the  unintentional  revolt  of  the  people  stood  all  at  once  face  to  face,  not 
only  with  the  whole  military  power  of  the  government,  but  with  the  whole 
property  holding  dass  as  well.  The  workingmen,  who  had  no  especial  aim, 
separated  gradually,  and  the  insurrection  came  to  an  end  without  evil  results. 
Later,  the  bourgeoisie  was  guilty  of  one  shameful  act  after  another,  tried  to 
whitewash  itself  by  expressing  a horror  of  populär  violence  by  no  means  con- 
sistent  with  its  own  revolutionary  language  of  the  spring;  laid  the  blame  of  in- 
surrection upon  Chartist  instigators,  whereas  it  had  itself  done  more  than  all  of 
them  together  to  bring  about  the  uprSsing;  and  resumed  its  old  attitude  of  sanc- 
tifying  the  name  of  the  law  with  a shamelessness  perfectly  unequalled.  The 
Chartists  who  were  all  but  innocent  of  bringing  about  this  uprising,  who  simply 
did  what  the  bourgeoisie  meant  to  do  when  they  made  the  most  of  their  oppor- 
tunity,  were  prosecuted  and  convicted,  while  the  bourgeoisie  escaped  without 
loss  and  had  besides  sold  off  its  old  stock  of  goods  with  advantage  during  the 
pause  in  work. 

The  fruit  of  the  uprising  was  the  decisive  Separation  of  the  Proletariat  from 
the  bourgeoisie.  The  Chartists  had  not  hitherto  concealed  their  determination 
to  carry  the  Charter  at  all  costs,  even  that  of  a revolution;  the  bourgeoisie,  which 
now  perceived,  all  at  once,  the  danger  with  which  any  violent  change  threatened 
its  Position,  refused  to  hear  anything  further  of  physical  force,  and  proposed  to 
attain  its  end  by  moral  force,  as  though  this  were  anything  eise  than  the  direct 
or  indirect  threat  of  physical  force.  This  was  one  point  of  dissension,  though 


157 


even  this  was  removed  later  by  the  assertion  of  the  Chartists  (who  are  at  least 
as  worthyof  being  believed  as  the  bourgeois)  that  they,  too,  refrained  from  appeal- 
ing  to  physical  force.  The  second  point  of  dissehsion  and  the  main  one,  which 
brought  Chartism  to  light  in  its  piirity,  was  the  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws.  In  this 
the  bourgeoisie  was  directly  interested,  the  Proletariat  not.  The  Chartists  there- 
fore  divided  into  two  parties  whose  political  programs  agreed  literally,  but  whicii 
were  nevertheless  thoroughly  different  and  incapable  of  Union.  At  the  Birming- 
ham National  Convention,  in  January,  1843,  Sturge,  the  representative  of  the 
Radical  bourgeoisie,  proposed  that  the  name  of  the  Charter  be  omitted  from  the 
Statutes  of  the  Chartist  Association,  nominally  because  this  name  had  become 
connected  with  recollections  of  violence  during  the  insurrection,  a connection  by 
the  way,  which  had  existed  for  years  and  against  which  Mr.  Sturge  had  hitherto 
advanced  no  objection.  The  workingmen  refused  to  drop  the  name,  and  when  Mr. 
Sturge  was  outvoted,  that  worthy  Quaker  suddenly  became  loyal,  betook  him- 
self  out  of  the  hall,  and  founded  a “ Complete  Suffrage  Association"  within  the 
Radical  bourgeoisie.  So  repugnant  had  these  recollections  become  to  the  Jacobin- 
ical  bourgeoisie,  that  he  altered  even  the  name  Universal  Suffrage  into  the  ridi- 
culous  title  Complete  Suffrage.  The  workingmen  laughed  at  him  and  quietly 
went  their  way. 

From  this  moment  Chartism  was  purely  a workingman’s  cause  freed  from  all 
bourgeois  elements.  The  “ Complete  " Journals,  the  Weekly  Dispatch^  Weckly 
Chronicle^  Exaniiner^  etc.,  feil  gradually  into  the  sleepy  tone  of  the  other  Liberal 
sheets.  espoused  the  cause  of  Free  Trade,  attacked  the  Ten  Hour  Bill  and  all 
exclusively  workingmen’s  motions,  and  let  their  Radicalism  as  a whole  fall  rather 
into  the  background.  The  Radical  bourgeoisie  joined  hands  with  the  Liberais 
against  the  workingmen  in  every  collision,  and  in  general  made  the  Corn  Law 
question  which  for  the  English  is  the  Free  Trade  question,  their  main  business. 
They  thereby  feil  under  the  dominion  of  the  Liberal  bourgeoisie  and  now  play  a 
most  pitiful  role. 

The  Chartist  workingmen,  on  the  contrary,  espoused  with  redoubled  zeal  all 
the  struggles  of  the  Proletariat  against  the  bourgeoisie.  Free  competition  has 
caused  the  workers  suffering  enough  to  the  hated  by  them;  its  apostles,  the 
bourgeois,  are  their  declared  enemies.  The  workingman  has  only  disadvantages 
to  await  from  the  complete  freedom  of  competition.  The  demands  hitherto  made 
by  him,  the  Ten  Hour  Bill,  protection  of  the  workers  against  the  capitalist, 
good  wages,  a guaranteed  position,  repeal  of  the  new  Poor  Law,  all  of  them 
things  which  belong  to  Chartism  quite  as  esscntially  as  the  “ Six  Points,"  are 
directly  opposed  to  free  competition  and  Free  Trade.  No  wonder  then  that  the 
workingmen  will  not  hear  of  Free  Trade  and  the  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws  (a  fact 
incomprehensible  to  the  whole  English  bourgeoisie),  and  while  at  least  wholly  in- 
different to  the  Corn  Law  question  are  most  deeply  embittered  against  its  ad- 
vocates.  This  question  is  precisely  the  point  at  which  the  Proletariat  separates 
from  the  bourgeoisie,  Chartism  from  Radicalism,  and  the  bourgeois  understand- 
ing  cannot  comprehend  this  because  it  cannot  comprehend  the  Proletariat. 


Therein  lies  the  difference  between  Chartist  democracy  and  all  previous  pqlitical 
bourgeois  democracy.  Chartism  is  of  an  essentially  social  nature,  a dass  move- 
ment. The  “ Six  Points  ” which  for  the  Radical  bourgeois  are  the  beginning  and 
end  of  the  matter,  which  are  meant,  at  the  utmost,  to  call  forth  certain  further 
reforms  of  the  Constitution,  are  for  the  proletarian  a mere  means  to  further  ends. 
“Political  power  our  means,  social  happiness  our  end,”  is  now  the  clearly  for- 
mulated  war  cry  of  the  Chartists.  The  ‘ ‘ knife  and  fork  question  ” of  the  preacher 
Stephens  was  a truth  for  a part  of  the  Chartists  only,  in  1838;  it  is  a truth  for  all 
of  them  in  1845.  There  it  no  longer  a mere  politician  among  the  Chartists,  and 
even  though  their  socialism  is  very  little  developed,  though  their  chief  remedy 
for  poveity  has  hitherto  consisted^  in  the  land-allotment  System,  which  was 
superseded  by  the  introduction  of  mänufacture,  though  their  chief  practical  pro- 
positions  are  apparently  of  a reactionary  nature,  yet  these  very  measures  involve 
the  alternative  that  they  must  either  succumb  to  the  power  of  competition  once 
more  and  restore  the  old  state  of  things,  or  they  must  themselves  entirely  overcome 
competition  and  abolish  it.  On  the  other  hand  the  present  indefinite  state  of 
Chartism,  the  Separation  from  the  purely  political  party  involves  that  precisely 
the  characteristic  feature,  its  social  aspect  will  have  to  be  further  developed.  The 
approach  to  Socialism  cannot  fail,  especially  when  the  next  crisis  directs  the  work- 
ingmen  by  force  of  sheerwant  to  social  instead  of  political  remedies.  And  a crisis 
must  follow  the  present  active  state  of  industry  and  commerce  in  1847  at  the  latest 
and  probably  in  1846;  one,  too,  which  will  far  exceed  in  extent  and  violence  all 
former  crises.  The  workingmen  will  carry  their  Charter,  naturally;  but  mean- 
while  they  will  learn  to  see  clearly  with  regard  to  many  points  which  they  can 
make  by  means  of  it  and  of  which  they  now  know  very  little. 

Meanwhile  the  socialist  agitation  also,  goes  forward.  English  socialism  comes 
under  our  consideration  so  far  only  as  it  affects  the  working  dass.  The  English 
socialists  demand  the  gradual  introduction  of  possession  in  common  in  home  col- 
onies  embracing  two  to  three  thousand  persons  who  shall  carry  on  both  agriculture 
and  manufacture  and  enjoy  equal  rights  and  equal  education.  They  demand  greater 
facilityof  obtaining  divorce,  the  establishmentof  a rational  government  with  com- 
plete  freedom  of  conscience  and  the  abolition  of  punishment,  the  same  to  be  re- 
placed  by  a rational  treatment  of  the  offender.  These  are  their  practical  meas- 
ures, their  theoretical  principles  do  not  concern  us  here.  English  socialism  arose 
with  Owen,  a manufacturer,  and  proceeds  therefore  with  great  consideration  to- 
ward  the  bourgeoisie  and  great  injustice  towards  the  Proletariat  in  its  methods, 
although  it  culminates  in  demanding  the  abolition  of  the  dass  antagonism  be- 
tween bourgeoisie  and  Proletariat. 

The  socialists  are  thoroughly  tarne  and  peaceable,  accept  our  existing  order  bad 
as  it  is,  so  far  as  to  reject  all  other  methods  but  that  of  winning  public  opiiiion. 


I.  See  Introduction. 


159 


Yet  they  are  so  dogmatic  that  success  by  this  method  is  for  them,  and  for  their 
principles  as  at  present  formulated,  utterly  hopeless.  While  bemoaning  the  demor- 
alization  of  the  lower  classes,  they  are  blind  to  the  element  of  progress  in  this  dis- 
solution  of  the  old  social  order,  and  refuse  to  acknowledge  that  the  corruption 
wrought  by  private  interests  and  hypocrisy  in  the  property-holding  dass  is  much 
greater.  They  acknowledge  no  historic  development  and  wish  to  place  the  nation 
in  a state  of  Communism  at  once,  over  night,  not  by  the  unavoidable  march  of  its 
political  development  up  to  the  point  at  which  this  transition  becomes  both  pos- 
sible  and  necessary.  They  understand,  it  is  true,  why  the  workingman  is  resent- 
ful  against  the  bourgeois  but  regard  as  unfruitful  this  dass  hatred  which  is,  after 
all,  the  only  moral  incentive  by  which  the  worker  can  be  brought  nearer  the  goal. 
They  preach  instead,  philanthropy  and  universal  love  far  more  unfruitful  for  the 
present  state  of  England.  They  acknowledge  only  a psychological  development,  a 
development  of  man  in  the  abstract,  out  of  all  relation  to  the  Fast,  whereas  the 
whole  world  rests  upon  that  Fast,  the  individual  man  included.  Hence  they  are 
too  abstract,  too  metaphysical,  and  accomplish  little.  They  are  recruited  in 
part  from  the  working  dass,  of  which  they  have  enlisted  but  a very  small 
fraction  representing,  however,  its  most  educated  and  solid  elements.  In  its 
present  form,  socialism  can  never  become  the  common  creed  of  the  working  dass; 
it  must  condescend  to  return  for  a moment  to  the  Chartist  standpoint.  But  the 
true  proletarian  socialism,  having  passed  through  Chartism,  purified  of  its  bour- 
geois elements,  assuming  the  form  which  it  has  already  reached  in  the  minds  of 
many  socialists  and  Chartist  leaders,  (who  are  nearly  all  socialists),  must,  within 
a short  time,  play  a weighty  part  in  the  history  of  the  development  of  the  Eng- 
lish  people.  English  socialism,  the  basis  of  which  is  much  more  ample  than  that 
of  the  French,  is  behind  it  in  theoretical  development,  will  have  to  recede  for  a 
moment  to  the  French  standpoint  in  order  to  proceed  beyond  it  later.  Mean- 
while  the  French,  too,  will  develop  farther.  English  Socialism  affords  the  most 
pronounced  expression  of  the  prevailing  absence  of  religion  among  the  working- 
men,  so  an  expression  pronounced  indeed  that  the  mass  of  the  workingmen  being 
unconsciously  and  merely  practically  irreligious,  often  draw  back  shocked  by  the 
force  of  it.  But  here,  too,  want  will  force  the  workingmen  to  abandon  the  rem- 
nants  of  a belief  which,  as  they  will  more  and  more  clearly  perceive,  serves  only  to 
make  them  weak  and  resigned  to  their  fate,  obedient  and  failhful  to  the  vampyre 
property  holding  dass. 


Hence  it  is  evident  that  the  workingmen’s  movement  is  divided  into  two  secj 
tions,  the  C'hartists  and  the  Socialists.  The  Chartists  are  theoretically  the  more 
backward,  the  less  developed,  but  they  are  genuine  proletarians  all  over,  the  rel 
presentatives  of  their  dass.  The  Socialists  are  more  farseeing,  propose  practical\ 
remedies  against  distress,  but,  proceeding  originally  from  the  bourgeoisie,  are 
for  this  reason  unable  to  amalgamate  completely  with  the  working  dass.  The 
Union  of  Socialism  with  Chartism,  the  reproduction  of  French  Communism  in  an 
English  manner  will  be  the  next  Step,  and  has  already  begun.  Then  only,  when 


— i6o  — 

this  has  been  achieved,  will  the  working  dass  be  the  true  intellectual  leader  of 
England.  Meanwhile,  political  and  social  development  will  proceed  and  will 
foster  this  new  party,  this  new  departure  of  Chartism. 

These  different  sections  of  workingmen,  often  United,  often  separated,  Trades 
Unionists,  Chartists  and  Socialists,  have  founded  on  their  own  hook  numbers  of 
schools  and  reading  rooms  for  the  advancement  of  education.  Every  Socialist, 
and  almost  every  Chartist  institution  has  such  a place,  and  so  too  have  many 
trades.  Here  the  children  receive  a purely  proletarian  education,  free  from  all  the 
influences  of  the  bourgeoisie;  and,  in  the  reading  rooms,  proletarian  Journals  and 
books  alone  or  almost  alone  are  to  be  found.  These  arrangements  are  very 
dangerous  for  the  bourgoisie,  which  has  succeeded  in  withdrawing  several  such 
institutes,  “ Mechanics’  Institutes,”  from  proletarian  influences  and  making 
them  Organs  for  the  dissemination  of  the  Sciences  useful  to  the  bourgeoisie. 
Here  the  natural  Sciences  are  now  taught,  which  may  draw  the  workingmen 
away  from  the  Opposition  to  the  bourgeoisie,  and  perhaps  place  in  their  hands, 
the  means  of  making  inventions  which  bring  in  money  for  the  bourgeoisie; 
while  for  the  workingman  the  acquaintance  with  the  natural  Sciences  is 
utterly  useless  now  when  it  too  often  happens  that  he  never  gets  the  slightest 
glimpse  of  Nature  in  his  large  town  with  his  long  working  hours.  Here 
Political  Economy  is  preached,  whose  idol  is  free  cornpetition  and  whose  sum 
and  substance  for  the  workingman  is  this,  that  he  cannot  do  anything  more 
rational  than  resign  himself  to  starvation.  Here  all  education  is  tarne,  flabby, 
subservient  to  the  ruling  politics  and  religion,  so  that  for  the  workingman  it  is 
merely  a constant  sermon  upon  quiet  obedience,  passivity  and  resignation  to  his 
fate. 

The  mass  of  workingmen  naturally  have  nothing  to  do  with  these  institutes, 
and  betake  themselves  to  the  proletarian  reading-rooms  and  to  the  discussion  of 
matters  which  directly  consern  their  own  interests,  whereupon  the  seif  sufficient 
bourgeoisie  says  its  Dixi  et  Salvari,  and  turns  with  contempt  from  a dass  which 
**  prefers  the  angry  ranting  of  ill-meaning  demagogues  to  the  advantages  of 
solid  education.”  That,  however,  the  workingmen  appreciate  solid  education 
when  they  can  get  it  unmixed  with  the  interested  cant  of  the  bourgeoisie,  the 
frequent  lectures  upon  scientific  aesthetic  and  economic  subjects  prove  which 
are  delivered  especially  in  the  Socialist  institutes,  and  very  well  attended.  I 
have  often  heard  workingmen,  whose  fustian  jackets  scarcely  held  together, 
speak  upon  geological,  astronomical  and  other  subjects,  with  more  knowledge 
than  most  “ cultivated  ” bourgeois  in  Germany  possess.  And  in  how  great  a 
raeasure  the  English  Proletariat  has  succeeded  in  attaining  independent  educa- 
tion is  shown  especially  by  the  fact  that  the  epoch-making  products  of  modern 
philosophical,  political  and  poetical  literature  are  read  by  workingmen  almost 
exclusively.  The  bourgeois,  enslaved  by  social  conditions  and  the  prejudices 
involved  in  them,  trembles,  ble^ses  and  crosses  himself  before  everything  which 
really  paves  the  way  for  progress;  the  proletarian  has  open  eyes  for  it,  and 


studies  it  with  pleasure  and  success.  In  this  respect  the  socialists,  especially, 
have  done  wonders  for  the  education  of  the  Proletariat.  They  have  translated 
the  French  materialists,  Helvetius,  Holbach,  Diderot,  etc.,  and  disseminated 
them,  with  the  best  English  works,  in  cheap  editions.  Strauss’  Life  of  Jesus 
and  Proudhon’s  Property  also  circulate  among  the  workingmcn  only.  Shelley, 
the  genius,  the  prophet,  Shelley,  and  Byron,  with  his  glowing  sensuality  and  his 
bitter  Satire  upon  our  existing  society,  find  most  of  their  rcaders  in  the  Prole- 
tariat; the  bourgeoisie  owns  only  castrated  editions,  family  editions,  cut  down 
in  accordance  the  hypocritical  morality  of  to-day.  The  two  great  practical 
philosophers  of  latest  date,  Bentham  and  Godwin,  are,  especially  the  latter, 
almost  exclusively  the  property  of  the  Proletariat;  for  though  Bentham  has  a 
school  within  the  Radical  bourgeoisie,  it  is  only  the  Proletariat  and  the  socialists 
who  have  succeeded  in  developing  his  teachings  a Step  forward.  The  Proletariat 
has  formed  upon  this  basis  a literature,  which  consists  chiefly  of  Journals  and 
Pamphlets,  and  is  far  in  advance  of  the  whole  bourgeois  literature  in  intrinsic 
worth.  On  this  point  more,  later. 

One  more  point  remains  to  be  noticed.  The  factory  operatives,  and  especially 
those  of  the  cotton  district,  form  the  nucleus  of  the  labor  movement.  Lanca- 
shire,  and  especially  Manchester,  is  the  seat  of  the  most  powerful  Unions,  the 
central  point  of  Chartism,  the  place  which  numbers  most  Socialists.  The  more 
the  factory  System  has  taken  possession  of  a branch  of  industry,  the  more  the 
workingmen  employed  in  it  participate  in  the  labor  movement;  the  sharper  the 
Opposition  between  workingmen  and  capitalists,  the  clearer  the  proletarian  con- 
sciousness  in  the  workingmen.  The  small  masters  of  Birmingham,  though  they 
suffer  from  the  crises,  still  stand  upon  an  unhappy  middle  ground  between 
proletarian  Chartism  and  shop-keepers’  Radicalism.  But,  in  general,  all  the 
workers  employed  in  manufacture  are  won  for  one  form  or  the  other  of  resist- 
ance  to  Capital  and  bourgeoisie;  and  all  are  united  upon  this  point,  that  they,  as 
workingmen,  a title  of  which  they  are  proud,  and  which  is  the  usual  form  of  ad- 
dress in  Chartist  meetings,  form  a separate  dass,  with  separate  interests  and 
principles,  with  a separate  way  of  looking  at  things  in  contrast  with  that  of  all 
property  owners;  and  that  in  this  dass  reposes  the  strenglh  and  the  capacity  of 
development  of  the  nation.  ^ 


The  Mining  Proletariat. 


The  production  of  raw  materials  and  fuel  for  a manufacture  so  colossal  as 
that  of  England  requires  a considerable  number  of  workers.  But  of  all  the 
materials  needed  for  its  Industries,  (except  wool,  which  belongs  to  the  agricul- 
tural d-istricts),  England  produces  only  the  minerals,  the  metals  and  the  coal. 
While  Cornwall  possesses  rieh  copper,  tin,  zinc  and  lead  mines,  Staffordshire, 
Wales  and  other  districts  yield  great  quantities  of  iron,  and  almost  the  whole  of 


i62 


North  and  West  England,  of  central  Scotland  and  certain  districts  of  Ireland 
produce  a superabundance  of  coal.  ^ 

In  the  Cornish  mines  about  ig,ooo  men,  and  ii,ooo  women  and  children  are 
employed,  in  part  above  and  in  part  below  ground.  Within  the  mines  below 
ground,  men  and  boys  above  twelve  years  old  are  employed  almost  exclusively. 
The  condition  of  these  workers  seems,  according  to  the  Children’s  Employment 
Commission’s  Reports,  to  be  comparatively  endurable,  materially,  and  the 
English  often  enongh  boast  of  their  strong,  bold  miners,  who  follow  the  veins 
of  mineral  below  the  bottom  of  the  very  sea.  But  in  the  matter  of  the  health  of 
these  workers,  this  same  Children's  Employment  Commission’s  Report  judges 
differently.  It  shows  in  Dr.  Barham’s  intelligent  report  how  the  Inhalation 
of  an  atmosphere  containing  little  oxygen,  and  mixed  with  dust  and  the  smoke 
of  blasting  powder,  such  as  prevails  in  the  mines,  seriously  affects  the  lungs, 
disturbs  the  action  of  the  heart,  and  diminishes  the  activity  of  the  digestive 
Organs;  that  wearing  toil,  and  especially  the  climbing  up  and  down  of  ladders 
upon  which  even  vigorous  young  men  have  to  spend  in  some  mines  more  than 
an  hour  a day,  and  which  precedes  and  follows  daily  work,  contributes  greatly 
to  the  development  of  these  evils,  so  that  men  who  begin  this  work  in  early 
youth  are  far  from  reaching  the  stature  of  women  who  work  above  ground;  that 
many  die  young  of  galoping  consumption,  and  most  miners  at  middle  age  of 
slow  consumption;  that  they  age  prematurely  and  become  unfit  for  work  between 
the  thirty-fifth  and  forty-fifth  years;  that  many  are  attacked  by  acute  inflamma- 
tions  of  the  respiratory  organs  when  exposed  to  the  sudden  change  from  the 
warm  air  of  the  shaft,  (after  climbing  the  ladder  in  profuse  perspiration),  to  the 
cold  wind  above  ground;  and  that  these  acute  inflammations  are  very  frequently 
fatal.  Work  above  ground,  breaking  and  sorting  the  ore,  is  done  by  girls  and 
children,  and  is  described  as  very  wholesome,  being  done  in  the  open  air. 


I.  According  to  the  census  of  1841,  the  number  of  workingmen  eirfployed  in  Great  Britain, 
without  Ireland,  was; 


Men 

Men 

Women 

Women 

over 

under 

over 

ander 

Together 

20  Years 

20  Years 

20  Years 

20  Years 

Coal  mines 

32.475 

1.185 

1.165 

118.233 

Copper  mines 

3.428 

913 

1.200 

15  4Ü7 

Lead  

1.932 

40 

20 

11.419 

Iron  “ 

2.679 

424 

73 

10.949 

Tin  « 

1.349 

68 

82 

6.101 

VariouB,  the  mineral 

not 

specified 

6 691 

472 

491 

31.616 

Total 

48.454 

3.102 

3.031 

193.726 

As  the  coal  and  iron  mines  are  usiially  worked  by  the  same  people,  a part  of  the  miners  at- 
tributed  to  the  coal  mines,  and  a very  considerable  part  of  those  mentioned  under  the  last  heading 
are  to  be  attributed  to  the  iron  mines. 


i63 


In  the  North  of  England,  on  the  borders  of  Northumbcrland  and  Durham, 
are  the  extensive  lead  mines  of  Aiston  Moor.  The  reports  from  this  district^ 
agree  almost  wholly  with  those  from  Cornwall.  Here,  too,  there  are  complaints 
of  want  of  oxygen,  excessive  dust,  powder  smoke,  carbonic  acid  gas  and  sulphur 
in  the  atmosphere  of  the  workings.  In  consequence,  the  miners  here,  as  in 
Cornwall,  are  small  of  stature,  and  nearly  all  suffer  from  the  thirtieth  year 
throughout  life  from  ehest  affections,  which  end,  especially  when  this  work  is 
persisted  in,  as  is  almost  always  the  case,  in  consumption,  so  greatly  shortening 
the  average  of  life  of  these  people.  If  the  miners  of  this  district  are  somewhat 
longer  lived  than  those  of  Cornwall,  this  is  the  case,  becanse  they  do  not  enter 
the  mines  before  reaching  the  nineteenth  year,  while  in  Cornwall,  as  we  have 
seen,  this  work  is  begun  in  the  twelfth  year.  Nevertheless,  the  majority  die 
here,  too,  between  forty  and  fifty  years  of  age,  according  to  medical  testimony. 
Of  79  miners,  whose  death  was  entered  upon  the  public  register  of  the  district, 
and  who  attained  an  average  of  45  ye^rs,  37  had  died  of  consumption  and  6 of 
asthma.  In  the  surrounding  districts,  Allendale,  Stanhope  and  Middleton,  the 
average  length  of  life  was  4g,  48  and  47  years  respectively,  and  the  deaths 
from  ehest  affections  composed  48,  54  and  56  per  cent.  of  the  whole  number. 
Let  US  compare  these  figures  with  the  so-called  Swedish  Tables,  detailed  tables 
of  mortality  embracing  all  the  inhabitants  of  Sweden,  and  recognized  in  England 
as  the  most  correct  Standard  hitherto  attainable  for  the  average  length  of 
life  of  the  British  working  dass.  According  to  them,  male  persons  who  sur- 
vive  the  nineteenth  year  attain  an  average  of  57^  years;  but,  according  to  this, 
the  North  of  England  miners  are  robbed  by  their  work  of  an  average  of  ten 
years  of  life.  Yet  the  Swedish  tables  are  accepted  as  the  Standard  of  longevity 
of  the  workers,  and  present,  therefore,  the  average  chances  of  life  as  affected  by 
the  unfavorable  conditions  in  which  the  Proletariat  lives,  a Standard  of  longevity 
less  than  the  normal  one.  In  this  district  we  find  again  the  lodging  houses  and 
sleeping  places  with  which  we  have  already  become  acquainted  in  the  towns, 
and  in  quite  as  filthy,  disgusting  and  overcrowded  a state  as  there.  Com- 
missioner  Mitchell  visited  one  such  sleeping  barrack,  18  feet  long,  13  feet  wide, 
and  arranged  for  the  reception  of  42  men  and  14  boys,  or  56  persons  altogether, 
one-half  of  whom  slept  above  the  other  in  berths  as  on  shipboard.  There  was 
no  opening  for  the  escape  of  the  foul  air;  and,  although  no  one  had  slept  in  this 
pen  for  three  night s preceding  the  visit,  the  smell  and  the  atmosphere  were  such 
that  Commissioner  Mitchell  could  not  endure  it  a moment.  What  must  it  be 
through  a hot  summer  night,  with  fifty-six  occupants!  And  this  is  not  the 
steerage  of  an  American  slave  ship,  it  is  the  dwelling  of  free  born  Britons! 

Let  US  turn  now  to  the  most  important  branch  of  British  mining,  the  iron  and 
coal  mines,  which  the  Children’s  Employment  Commission  treats  in  common, 
and  with  all  the  detail  which  the  importance  of  the  subject  demands.  Nearly 
the  whole  of  the  first  part  of  this  report  is  devoted  to  the  condition  of  the 


1.  A'so  found  in  the  Children^s  Employment  Commission’s  Report;  Commissioner  Mitchell'3 
Report. 


104 


workers  employed  in  these  mines.  After  the  detailed  description  which  I have 
furnished  of  the  state  of  the  industrial  workers,  I shall,  however,  be  able  to  be 
as  brief  in  dealing  with  this  subject,  as  the  scope  of  the  present  work  requires. 

< In  the  coal  and  iron  mines  which  are  work'ed  in  pretty  much  the  same  way, 
children  of  four,  five  and  seven  years  are  employed.  They  are  set  to  transport- 
ing  the  ore  or  coal  loosened  by  the  miner  from  its  place  to  the  horse  path  or  the 
main  shaft,  and  to  opening  and  shutting  the  doors  (which  separate  the  divisions 
of  the  mine  and  regulate  its  Ventilation)  for  the  passage  of  workers  and  material. 
For  watching  the  doors  the  smallest  children  are  usually  employed,  who  thus 
pass  twelve  hours  daily,  in  the  dark,  alone,  sitting  usually  in  damp  passages 
without  even  having  work  enough  to  save  them  from  the  stupefying,  brutalizing 
tedium  of  doing  nothing.  The  transport  of  coal  and  iron-stone,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  very  hard  labor,  the  stuff  being  shoved  in  large  tubs,  without  wheels, 
over  the  uneven  floor  of  the  mine;  often  over  moist  clay,  or  through  water,  and 
frequently  up  steep  inclines  and  through  paths  so  low  roofed  that  the  workers 
are  forced  to  creep  on  hands  and  knees.  For  this  more  wearing  labor,  there- 
fore,  older  children  and  half-grown  girls  are  employed.  One  man  or  two  boys 
per  tub  are  employed,  according  to  circumstances;  and,  if  two  bo3^s,  one  pushes 
and  the  other  pulls.  The  loosening  of  the  ore  or  coal,  which  is  done  by  men 
or  strong  youths  of  sixteen  years  or  more,  is  also  very  weary  work.  The  usual 
working  day  is  eleven  to  twelve  hours,  often  longer;  in  Scotland  it  reaches  four- 
teen  hours,  and  double  time  is  frequent,  when  all  the  employees  are  at  work 
below  ground  twenty-four,  and  even  thirty-six  hours  at  a Stretch.  Set  times  for 
meals  are  almost  unknown,  so  that  these  people  eat  when  hunger  and  time 
permit.'> 

The  Standard  of  living  of  the  miners  is  in  general  described  as  fairly  good  and 
their  wages  high  in  comparison  with  those  of  the  agricultural  laborers  surround* 
ing  them  (who,  however,  live  at  starvation  rates),  except  in  certain  parts  of  Scot- 
land and  in  the  Irish  mines  where  great  misery  prevails.  We  shall  have  occasion 
to  return  later  to  this  Statement  which  by  the  way  is  merely  relative  implying 
comparison  to  the  poorest  dass  in  all  England.  Meanwhile  we  shall  consider 
the  evils  which  arise  from  the  present  method  of  mining,  and  the  reader  may 
judge  whether  any  pay  in  money  can  indemnify  the  miner  for  such  suffering. 

The  children  and  young  people  who  are  employed  in  transporting  coal  and 
iron-stone  all  complain  of  being  overtired.  Even  in  the  most  recklessly  conducted 
industrial  establishments  there  is  no  such  universal  and  exaggerated  overwork. 
The  whole  report  proves  this,  with  a number  of  examples  on  every  page.  It  is 
constantly  happening  that  children  throw  ihemselves  down  on  the  stone  hearth 
or  the  floor  as  soon  as  they  reach  home,  fall  asleep  at  once  without  being  able  to 
take  a bite  of  food,  and  have  to  be  washed  and  put  to  bed  while  asleep;  it  even 
happens  that  they  lie  down  on  the  way  home  and  are  found  by  their  parents  late 
at  night  asleep  on  the  road.  It  seems  to  be  a universal  practise  among  these 
children  to  spend  Sunday  in  bed  to  recover  in  some  degree  from  the  overexertion 
of  the  week.  Church  and  school  are  visited  by  but  few,  and  even  of  these  the 


r65 


teachers  complain  of  their  great  sleepiness  and  tbc  want  of  all  eagerness  to  learn. 
The  same  thing  is  true  of  the  eldcr  girls  and  women.  They  are  overworked  in  thc 
most  brutal  manner.  This  weariness  which  is  almost  always  carried  to  a most  pain- 
ful  pitch,  cannot  fail  to  affect  the  Constitution.  The  first  result  of  such  over- 
exertion  is  the  diversion  of  vitality  to  the  one-sided  development  of  the  muscles, 
so  that  those  especially  of  the  arms,  legs  and  back,  of  the  shoulders  and  ehest 
which  are  chiefly  called  into  activitiy  in  pushing  and  pulling  attain  an  uncom- 
monly  vigorous  development,  while  all  the  rest  of  the  body  suffers  and  is  atrophied 
from  want  of  nourishment.  More  than  all  eise  the  stature  suffers,  being  stunted 
and  retarded;  nearly  all  miners  are  short,  except  those  of  Leicestershire  andWar- 
wickshire  who  work  under  exceptionally  favorable  conditions.  Further,  among 
boys  as  well  as  girls,  puberty  is  retarded,  among  the  former  often  until  the  eight- 
eenth  year;  indeed,  a nineteen  years  old  boy  appeared  before  Commissioner 
Symons,  showing  no  evidence  beyond  that  of  the  teeth,  that  he  was  more  than 
eleven  or  twelve  years  old.  This  Prolongation  of  the  period  of  childhood,  is  at 
bottom  nothing  more  than  a sign  of  checked  development,  which  does  not  fail 
to  bear  fruit  in  later  years.  Distortions  of  the  legs,  knees  bent  inwards  and  feet 
bent  outwards,  deformities  of  the  spinal  column  and  other  malformations  appear 
the  more  readily  in  constitutions  Ihus  weakened,  in  consequence  of  the  almost 
universally  constrained  position  during  work;  and  they  are  so  frequent  that  in 
Yorkshire  and  Lancashire,  as  in  Northumberland  and  Durham,  the  assertion  is 
made  by  many  witnesses,  not  oiily  by  physicians,  that  a miner  may  be  recognized 
by  his  shape  among  a hundied  other  persons.  The  women  seem  to  suffer  especially 
from  this  work,  and  are  seldom,  if  ever,  as  straight  as  other  women.  There  is 
testimony  here,  too,  to  the  fact  that  deformities  of  the  pelvis  and  consequent  dif- 
ficult  even  fatal  childbearing  arise  from  the.  work  of  women  in  the  mines.  But 
apart  from  these  local  deformities,  the  coal  miners  suffer  from  a number  of  special 
affeclions  easily  explained  by  ihe  nature  of  the  work.  Diseases  of  the  diges- 
tive Organs  are  first  in  order;  want  of  appetite,  pains  in  the  stomach,  nausea  and 
vomiting  are  most  frequent,  with  violent  thirst  which  can  be  quenched  only  with 
the  dirty,  lukewarm  water  of  the  mine;  the  digestion  is  checked  and  all  the 
other  affcctions  are  thus  invited.  Diseases  of  the  heart,  especially  hypertrophy, 
inflammation  of  the  heart  and  pericardium,  contraction  of  the  aurictilo-veniricidar 
Communications  and  the  entrance  of  the  aorta  are  also  mentioned  repeatedly  as  dis- 
eases of  the  miners,  and  are  readily  explained  by  overwork;  and  the  sa.ne  is  true 
of  the  almost  universal  rupture  which  is  a direct  consequence  of  protracted  over- 
exertion.  In  part  from  the  same  cause  and  in  part  from  the  bad,  dust-filled  at- 
mosphere  mixed  with  carbonic  acid  and  hydrocarbon  gas  which  might  so  readily 
be  avoided,  there  arise  numerous  painful  and  dangerous  affections  of  the  lungs, 
especially  asthma,  which  in  some  districts  appears  in  the  fortieth,  in  others  in  the 
thirtieth  year  in  most  of  the  miners,  and  makes  them  unfit  for  work  in  a short 
time.  Among  those  employed  in  wet  workings  the  oppression  in  the  ehest  natur- 
ally  appears  much  earlier;  in  some  districts  of  Scotland  between  the  twentieth 
and  thirtieth  years,  during  which  time  the  affected  lungs  are  especially  susceptible 


i66 


to  inflammations  and  diseases  of  a feverish  nature.  The  peculiar  disease  of  work- 
ers  of  this  sort  is  “ black  spittle,"  which  arises  from  the  Saturation  of  the  whole 
lungwithcoal  particles  and  manifests  itself  in  general  debility,  headache,  oppres- 
sion  of  the  ehest,  and  thick,  black  mucous  expectoration.  In  some  districts  this 
disease  appears  in  a mild  form;  in  others,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  wholly  incurable, 
especially  in  Scotland.  Here,  besides  the  Symptoms  just  mentioned,  which  appear 
in  an  intensified  form,  short,  wheezing  breathing,  rapid  pulse  (exceeding  loo  per 
minute)  and  abrupt  coughing,  with  increasing  leanness  and  debility,  speedily  make 
the  patient  unfit  for  work.  Every  case  of  this  disease  ends  fatally.  Dr.  Mackellar, 
in  Pencaithland,  East  Lothian,  testified  that  in  all  the  coal  mines  which  are  pro- 
perly  ventilated  this  disease  is  unknown,  while  it  frequently  happens  that  miners 
who  go  from  well  to  ill-ventilaled  mines  are  seized  by  it.  The  profit-greed  of 
mine  owners  which  prevents  the  use  of  Ventilators  is  therefore  responsible  for  the 
fact  that  this  workingmen’s  disease  exists  at  all.  Rheumatism,  too,  is  with  the 
exception  of  the  Warwick  and  Leicestershire  workers,  a universal  disease  of  the 
coal  miners,  and  arises  especially  from  the  frequently  damp  working  places.  The 
consequence  of  all  these  diseases  is  that,  in  all  districts  without  exception^  the 
coal  miners  age  early  and  become  unfit  for  work  soon  after  the  fortieth  year, 
though  this  is  different  in  different  places.  A coal  miner  who  can  follow  his 
calling  after  the  45th  or  50th  year  is  a very  great  rarity  indeed.  Itis  universally 
recognized  that  such  workers  enter  upon  old  age  at  forty.  This  applies  to  those 
who  loosen  the  coal  from  the  bed;  the  loaders,  who  have  constantly  to  lift  heavy 
blocks  of  coal  into  the  tubs,  age  with  the  twenty-eighth  or  thirtieth  year,  so  that 
it  is  proverbial  in  the  coal  mining  districts  that  the  loaders  are  old  before  they  are 
young.  That  this  premature  old  age  is  followed  by  the  early  death  of  the  Colliers 
is  a matter  of  course,  and  a man  who  reaches  sixty  is  a great  exception  among 
them.  Even  in  South  Staffordshire  where  the  mines  are  comparatively  whole- 
some,  few  men  reach  their  tifty-first  year.  Along  with  this  early  superannuation 
of  the  w’orkers  we  naturally  find,  just  as  in  the  case  of  the  mills,  frequent  lack 
of  employment  of  the  elder  men,  who  are  often  supported  by  very  young  children. 
If  we  sum  Up  briefly  the  results  of  the  work  in  coal  mines,  we  find  as  Dr.  South 
wood  Sm!th,  one  of  the  Commissioners,  does,  that  through  prolonged  childhood 
on  the  one  hand  and  premature  age  on  the  other,  tliat  period  of  life  in  which  the 
human  being  is  in  full  possession  of  his  powers,  the  period  of  manhood,  is 
greatly  shortened,  while  the  length  of  life  in  general  is  belowthe  average.  This, 
too,  on  the  debit  side  of  the  bourgeoisie’s  reckoning! 

All  this  deals  only  with  the  average  of  the  English  coal  mines.  But  there  are 
many  in  which  the  state  of  things  is  much  worse,  those  namely  in  which  thin 
seams  of  coal  are  worked.  The  coal  would  be  too  expensive  if  a part  of  the  ad- 
jacent  sand  and  clay  were  removed;  so  the  mine  owners  permit  only  the  seams  to 
be  worked,  whereby  the  passages  w^hich  elsewhere  are  four  or  five  feet  high  and 
more  are  here  kept  so  low  that  to  stand  upright  in  them  is  not  to  be  thought  of. 
The  workingman  lies  on  his  side  and  loosens  the  coal  with  his  pick,  resting 
upon  his  elbow  as  a pivot,  whence  follow  inflammations  of  the  joint,  and 


i67 


in  cases  where  he  is  forccd  to  kneel  of  the  knee  also.  The  women  and  childrcn 
who  have  to  transport  the  coal,  crawl  upon  their  hands  and  knees,  fastened  to 
the  tub  by  a harness  and  chain  (which  frequently  passes  between  the  legs),  while 
a man  behind  pushes  with  hands  and  head.  The  pushing  with  the  head  engen - 
ders  local  irritations,  painful  swellings  and  ulcers.  In  many  cases,  too,  the  shafts 
are  wet,  so  that  these  workers  have  to  crawl  through  dirty  or  salt  water  several 
inches  deep,  being  thus  exposed  to  a special  Irritation  of  the  skin.  It  can  be 
readily  imaginedhow  greatly  the  diseases  already  peculiar  to  the  miners  are  fos- 
tered  by  this  especially  frightful,  slavish  toil. 

But  these  are  not  all  the  evils  which  descend  upon  the  head  of  the  coal  miner. 
In  the  whole  British  Empire  there  is  no  occupation  in  which  a man  may  mect 
his  end  in  so  many  diverse  ways  as  in  this  one.  The  coal  mine  is  the  scene  of  a 
multitude  of  the  most  terrifying  calamities,  and  these  come  directly  from  the 
selfishness  of  the  bourgeoisie.  The  hydrocarbon  gas  which  develops  so  freely 
in  these  mines,  forms,  when  combined  with  atmospheric  air,  an  explosive  which 
takes  fire  upon  coming  into  contact  with  a flame  and  kills  every  one  within  its 
reach.  Such  explosions  take  place,  in  one  mine  or  another,  nearly  every  day;  on 
September  28th,  1844,  one  killed  96  men  in  Haswell  Colliery,  Durham.  The 
carbonic  acid  gas  which  also  develops  in  great  quantities,  accumulates  in  the 
deeper  parts  of  the  mine,  frequently  reaching  the  height  of  a man,  and  suffocates 
every  one  who  gets  into  it.  The  doors  which  separate  the  sections  of  the  mines 
are  meant  to  prevent  the  propagation  of  explosions  and  the  movement  of  the 
gases;  but  since  they  are  entrusted  to  small  children,  who  often  fall  asleep  or 
neglect  them,  this  means  of  prev'ention  is  illusory.  A proper  Ventilation  of 
the  mines  by  means  of  fresh  air  shafts  could  almost  entirely  remove  the  injurious 
effects  of  both  these  gases.  But  for  this  purpose,  the  bourgeoisie  has  no  money 
to  spare,  preferring  to  command  the  workingmen  to  use  the  Davy  lamp,  which  is 
wholly  useless  because  of  its  dull  light,  and  is  therefore  usually  replaced  by  a 
candle.  If  an  explosion  occurs,  the  recklessness  of  the  miner  is  blamed,  though 
the  bourgeois  might  have  made  the  explosion  well-nigh  impossible  by  supplying 
good  Ventilation.  Further,  every  few  days  the  roof  of  a working  falls  in, and  buries 
or  mangies  the  workers  employed  in  it.  It  is  the  interest  of  the  bourgeois  to  have 
the  seams  worked  out  as  completely  as  possible,  and  hence  the  accidents  of  this 
sort.  Then,  too,  the  ropes  by  which  the  men  descend  into  the  mines  are  often 
rotten  and  break,  so  that  the  unfortunates  fall  and  are  crushed.  All  these  acci- 
dents, and  I have  no  room  for  special  cases,  carry  off  yearly,  according  to  the 
Mining  Journal^  some  fourteen  hundred  human  beings.  The  Manchester  Gtiar^ 
dian  reports  at  least  tvvo  or  three  accidents  every  week  for  Lancashire  alone.  In 
nearly  all  mining  districts,  the  people  composing  the  coroner's  juries,  are  in  almost 
all  cases,  dependent  upon  the  mine  owners,  and  where  this  is  not  the  case,  im- 
mcmorial  custom  insures  that  theverdict  shall  be:  “Accidental  Death.”  Besides, 
the  jury  takes  very  little  interest  in  the  state  of  the  mine,  because  it  does  noL 
understand  anything  about  the  matter.  But  the  Children’s  Employment  Corii- 


i68 


mission  does  not  hesitate  to  make  the  mine  owners  directly  responsible  for  the 
greater  nuinber  of  these  cases, 

£ As  to  the  education  and  morals  of  the  mining  population,  they  are,  according 
to  the  Children’s  Employment  Commission,  pretty  good  in  Cornwall,  and  excel- 
lent  in  Aiston  Moor;  in  the  coal  districts,  in  general,  they  are,  on  the  contrary, 
reported  as  on  an  excessively  low  plane.  The  workers  live  in  the  country  in 
neglected  regions,  and  if  they  do  their  weary  work,  no  human  being  outside  the 
police  force  troubles  himself  about  them.  Hence,  and  from  the  tender  age  at 
which  children  are  put  to  work,  it  follows  that  their  mental  education  is  wholly 
neglected.  The  day  schools  are  not  within  their  reach,  the  evening  and 
Sunday  schools  mere  shams,  the  teachers  worthless.  Hence  few  can  read  and 
still  fewer  write.  The  only  point  upon  which  their  eyes  are  as  yet  open  is  the 
fact  that  their  wages  are  far  too  low  for  their  hateful  and  dangerous  work.  To 
church  they  go  seldom  or  never;  all  the  clergy  complain  of  their  irreligion  as 
beyond  comparison.  As  a matter  of  fact,  their  ignorance  of  religious  and  of 
secular  things,  alike,  is  such  that  the  ignorance  of  the  faclory  operatives  shown 
in  numerous  examples  in  the  foregoing  pages  is  trifling  in  comparison  with  it. 
The  categories  of  religion  are  known  to  them  only  from  the  terms  of  their  oaths. 
Their  morality  is  destroyed  by  their  work  itself.  That  the  overwork  of  all 
miners  must  engender  drunkenness  is  self-evident.  As  to  their  sexual  relations, 
men,  women  and  children  work  in  the  mines,  in  many  cases,  wholly  naked,  and 
in  most  cases  nearly  so,  by  reason  of  the  prevailing  heat,  and  the  consequences 
in  the  dark,  lonely  mines  may  be  imagined.  The  number  of  illegitimate 
children  is  here  disproportionately  large,  and  indicates  what  goes  on  among  the 
half  savage  population  below  ground;  but  proves,  too,  that  the  illegitimate  inter- 
course  of  the  sexes  has  not  here,  as  in  the  great  cities,  sunk  to  the  level  of  Pros- 
titution. The  labor  of  women  entails  the  same  consequences  as  in  the  factories, 
dissolves  the  family,  and  makes  the  mother  totally  incapable  of  household  work, 

When  the  Children’s  Employment  Commission’s  Report  was  iaid  before 
Parliament,  Lord  Ashley  hastened  to  bring  in  a bill  wholly  forbidding  the  work 
of  women  in  the  mines,  and  greatly  limiting  that  of  children.  The  bill  was 
adopted,  but  has  remained  a dead  letter  in  most  districts,  because  no  mine  in- 
spectors  were  appointed  to  watch  over  its  being  carried  into  effect.  The  evasion 
of  the  law  is  very  easy  in  the  country  districts  in  which  the  mines  are  situated; 
and  no  one  need  be  surprised  that  the  Miners’  Union  laid  before  the  Home 
Secretary  an  ofhcial  notice,  last  year,  that  in  the  Duke  of  Hamilton’s  coal  mines 
in  Scotland,  more  than  sixty  women  were  at  work;  or  that  the  Manchester 
Guardian  reported  that  a girl  perished  in  an  explosion  in  a mine  near  Wigan, 
and  no  one  troubled  himself  further  about  the  fact  that  an  infringement  of  the 
law  was  thus  revealed.  In  single  cases  the  employment  of  women  may  have 
been  discontinued,  but  in  general  the  old  state  of  things  remains  as  before. 

These  are,  however,  not  all  the  afflictions  known  to  the  coal  miners.  The 
bourgeoisie,  not  content  with  ruining  the  health  of  these  people,  keeping  them 
in  danger  of  sudden  loss  of  life,  robbing  them  of  all  opportunity  for  education, 


pluiiders  tliem  in  oiher  direclions  in  the  most  shameless  manner.  The  truck 
System  is  here  the  rule,  not  the  exception,  and  is  carried  on  in  the  most 
direct  and  undisgiiised  manner.  The  cottage  System,  likewise,  is  universal,  and 
here  almost  a necessity;  but  it  is  used  here,  too,  for  the  better  plundering  of  the 
workers.  To  these  means  of  oppression  must  be  added  all  sorts  of  direct  cheat- 
ing.  While  coal  is  sold  by  weight,  the  worker's  wages  are  reckoned  chiefly  by 
measure;  and  when  his  tub  is  not  perfectly  full  he  receives  no  pay  whatever, 
while  he  gets  not  a farthing  for  overmeasure.  If  there  is  more  than  a specified 
quantity  of  dust  in  the  tub,  a matter  which  depends  much  less  upon  ihe  miner 
than  upon  the  nature  of  the  seam,  he  not  only  loses  his  whole  wage  but  is  fined 
besides.  The  fine  System  in  general  is  so  highly  perfected  in  the  coal  mines, 
that  a poor  devil  who  has  worked  the  whole  week  and  comes  for  his  wages, 
sometimes  learns  from  the  overseer  who  fines  at  discretion  and  without  sum- 
moning  the  workers,  that  he  not  only  has  no  wages  but  must  pay  so  and  so 
much  in  fines  extra!  The  overseer  has,  in  general,  absolute  power  over  wages, 
he  notes  the  work  done,  and  can  please  himself  as  to  what  he  pays  the  worker, 
who  is  forced  to  take  his  word.  In  some  mines,  where  the  pay  is  according  to 
weight,  false  decimal  scales  are  used,  whose  weights  are  not  subject  to  the  in- 
spection  of  the  authorities;  in  one  coal  mine  there  was  actually  a regulation  that 
any  workman  who  intended  to  complain  of  the  falseness  of  the  scales  must give 
notice  to  the  overseer  three  weeks  in  advance  ! In  many  districts,  especially  in 
the  North  of  England,  it  is  customary  to  engage  the  workers  by  the  year;  they 
pledge  themselves  to  work  for  no  other  employer  during  that  time,  but  the  mine 
owner  by  no  means  pledges  himself  to  give  them  work,  so  that  they  are  often 
without  it  for  inonths  together,  and  if  they  seek  eise  where,  they  are  sent  to 
the  treadmill  for  six  weeks  for  breach  of  contract.  In  other  contracts,  work  to 
the  amount  of  26s.  every  14  days,  is  promised  the  miners,  but  not  furnished;  in 
others  still,  the  employers  advance  the  miners  small  sums  to  be  worked  out 
afterwards,  thus  binding  the  debtors  to  themselves.  In  the  North,  the  custom 
is  general  of  keeping  the  payment  of  wages  one  week  behindhand,  chaining  the 
miners  in  this  way  to  their  work.  And  to  complete  the  slavery  of  these 
enthralled  workers,  nearly  all  the  Justices  of  the  Peace  in  the  coal  districts  are 
mine  owners  themselves,  or  relatives  or  friends  of  mine  owners,  and  possess 
almost  unlimited  power  in  these  poor,  uncivilized  regions  where  there  are  few 
newspapers,  these  few  in  the  Service  of  the  ruling  dass,  and  but  little  other 
agitation.  It  is  almost  beyond  conception  how  these  poor  coal  miners  have 
been  plundered  and  tyrannized  over  by  Justices  of  the  Peace  acting  as  judges  in 
their  own  cause. 

So  it  went  on  for  a long  time.  The  workers  did  not  know  any  better  than 
that  they  were  there  for  the  purpose  of  being  swindled  out  of  their  very  lives. 
But  gradually,  even  among  them,  and  especially  in  the  factory  districts,  where 
contact  with  the  more  intelligent  operatives  could  not  fail  of  its  effect,  there 
arose  a spirit  of  Opposition  to  the  shameless  oppression  of  the  “coal  kings.’' 
The  men  began  to  form  Unions  and  strike  from  time  to  time.  In  civilized  dis- 


170 


tricts  ihey  joined  the  Chartists  body  and  soul.  The  great  coal  district  of  the 
North  of  England,  shut  off  from  all  industrial  intercourse,  remained  backward 
until,  after  many  efforts  partly  of  the  Chartists  and  partly  of  the  more  intelligent 
miners  themselves,  a general  spirit  of  Opposition  arose  in  1843..  Such  a move- 
ment seized  the  workers  of  Northumberland  and  Durham  that  they  placed 
themselves  at  the  forefront  of  a general  Union  of  coal  miners  throughout  the 
kingdom,  and  appointed  W.  P.  Roberts,  a Chartist  solicitor,  of  Bristol,  their 
“Attorney  General,”  he  having  distinguished  himself  in  earlier  Chartist  trials. 
The  Union  soon  spread  over  a great  majority  of  the  districts;  agents  were  ap- 
pointed in  all  directions,  who  held  meetings  everywhere  and  secured  new  mem- 
bers;  at  the  first  Conference  of  delegates,  in  Manchester,  in  1844,  there  were 
6o,OüO  members  represented,  and  at  GlavSgow,  six  months  later,  at  the  second 
Conference,  100,000.  Here  all  the  affairs  of  the  coal  miners  were  discussed  and 
decisions  as  to  the  greater  strikes  arrived  at.  Several  journals  were  founded, 
chief  among  the  Miners^  Advocate,  at  Newcastle-upon-Tyne,  for  defending  the 
rights  of  the  miners.  On  March  3 ist,  1844,  the  contracts  of  all  the  miners  of 
Northumberland  and  Durham  expired.  Roberts  was  empowered  to  draw  up  a 
new  agreement,  in  which  the  men  demanded:  i.)  Payment  by  weight  instead  of 
measure;  2.)  Determination  of  weight  by  means  of  ordinary  scales  subject  to 
the  public  inspectors;  3.)  Half  yearly  renewal  of  contracts;  4.)  Abolition  of  the 
fines  System  and  payment  according  to  wo:k  actually  done;  5.)  The  employers 
to  guarantee  to  miners  in  their  exclusive  Service  at  least  four  days^  work  per 
week,  or  wages  for  the  same.  This  agreement  was  submitted  to  the  “coal 
kings,”  and  a deputation  appointed  to  negotiate  with  them;  they  answered, 
however,  that  for  them  the  Union  did  not  exist,  that  they  had  to  deal  with 
single  workmen  only,  and  should  never  recognize  ihe  Union.  They  also  sub- 
mitted an  agreement  of  their  owii  which  ignored  all  the  foregoing  points,  and 
was,  naturally,  refused  by  the  miners.  War  was  thus  declared.  On  March 
3ist,  1844,  40,000  miners  laid  down  their  picks  and  every  mine  in  the  county 
stood  einpty.  The  funds  of  the  Union  were  so  considerable  that  for  several 
months  a weekly  contribution  of  2s.  6d.  could  be  assured  to  each  family.  While 
the  miners  were  thus  putting  the  patience  of  their  masters  to  the  test,  Roberts 
organized  with  incomparable  perseverance  both  strike  and  agitation,  arranged 
for  the  holding  of  meetings,  traversed  England  from  one  end  to  the  other, 
preached  peaceful  and  legal  agitation,  and  carried  on  a crusade  against  the 
despotic  Justices  of  the  Peace  and  truck  masters,  such  as  had  never  been  known 
in  England.  This  he  had  begun  at  the  beginning  of  the  year.  Wherever  a 
miner  had  been  condemned  by  a Justice  of  the  Peace,  he  obtained  a habeas 
Corpus  from  the  Court  of  Queen ’s  Bench,  brought  his  dient  to  London,  and 
always  secured  an  acquittal.  Thus,  January  I3th,  Judge  Williams  of  Queen’s 
Bench,  acquitted  three  miners  condemned  by  the  Justices  of  the  Peace  of 
Bilstön,  South  Staff ordshire;  the  offense  of  these  people  was  that  they  refused 
to  work  in  a place  which  threatened  to  cave  in  and  had  actually  caved  in  before 
their  return!  On  an  earlier  occasion,  Judge  Patteson  had  acquitted  six  working- 


men,  so  that  the  name  Roberts  began  to  be  a terror  to  the  mine  owners.  In 
Prestcn  four  of  bis  clients  were  in  jail.  In  the  first  week  of  January  he  pro- 
ceeded  thither  to  investigate  the  case  on  the  spot;  but  found,  when  he  arrived, 
the  condemned  all  released  before  the  expiration  of  the  sentence.  In  Manches- 
ter there  were  seven  in  jail;  Roberts  obtained  a habeas  corpus  and  acquittal  for 
all  from  Judge  Wightman.  In  Prcscott  nine  coal  miners  were  in  jail,  accused 
of  creating  a disturbance  in  St.  Helen  s,  South  Lancashire,  and  awaiting  trial; 
when  Roberts  arrived  upon  the  spot,  they  were  released  at  once.  All  this  took 
place  in  the  first  half  of  February.  In  April,  Roberts  released  a miner  from 
jail  in  Derby,  four  in  Wakefield,  and  four  in  Leicester.  So  it  went  on  for  a 
time  until  these  Dogberries  came  to  have  some  respect  for  the  miners.  The 
truck  System  shared  the  same  fate.  One  after  another  Roberts  brought  the  dis- 
reputable  mine  owners  before  the  courts,  and  compelled  the  reluctant  Justices 
of  the  Peace  to  condemn  them;  such  dread  of  this  “lightning”  “Attorney 
General  ” who  seemed  to  be  everywhere  at  once  spread  among  them,  that  at 
Belper,  for  instance,  upon  Roberts  arrival,  a truck  firm  published  the  following 
notice: 

NOTICE! 

Pentrich  Coal  Mine, 

“ The  Messrs.  Haslam  think  it  necessary  in  Order  to  prevent  all  mistakes 
to  announce  that  all  persons  employed  in  their  colliery  will  receive  their  wages 
wholly  in  cash  and  may  expend  them  when  and  as  they  choose  to  do.  If  they 
purchase  goods  in  the  shops  of  Messrs.  Haslam  they  will  receive  them  as  here- 
tofore  at  Wholesale  prices,  but  they  are  not  expected  to  make  their  purchases  there, 
and  work  and  wages  will  be  continued  as  usual  whether  purchases  are  made  in 
these  shops  or  elsewhere,  ” 

This  triumph  aroused  the  greatest  jubilation  throughout  the  English  working 
dass,  and  brought  the  Union  a mass  of  new  members.  Meanwhile  the  strike  in 
the  North  was  proceeding.  Not  a hand  stirred,  and  Newcastle,  the  chief  coal 
port,  was  so  stripped  of  its  commodity  that  coal  had  lo  be  brought  from  the  Scotch 
coast,  in  spite  of  the  proverb.  At  first,  while  the  Union’s  funds  held  out  all  went 
well,  but  towards  summer  the  struggle  became  much  more  painful  for  the  miners. 
The  greatest  want  prevailed  amoi\^  them;  they  had  no  money,  for  the  coniribu- 
tions  of  the  workers  of  all  branches  of  industry  in  England  availed  little  among 
the  vast  number  of  strikers,  who  were  forced  to  borrovv  from  the  small  shop 
keepers  at  a heavy  loss.  The  whole  press,  with  the  single  exception  of  the  few 
proletarian  journals,  was  against  them;  the  bourgeois,  even  the  few  among  them 
who  might  have  had  enough  sense  of  justice  to  Support  the  miners,  learnt  from 
the  corrupt  Liberal  and  Conservative  sheets  only  lies  about  them.  A deputation 
of  twelve  miners  who  went  to  London  received  a sum  from  the  Proletariat  there, 
but  this,  too,  availed  little  among  the  mass  who  needed  support.  Yet,  in  spite 
of  all  this,  the  miners  remained  steadfast,  and  what  is  even  more  significant, 
were  quiet  and  peaceable  in  the  face  of  all  the  hostilities  and  provocation  of  the 
mine  owners  and  their  faithful  servants.  No  act  of  revenge  was  carried  out,  not 


172 


a renegade  was  maltreated,  not  one  single  theft  committed.  Thus  the  strike  had 
continued  well  on  towards  four  months,  and  the  mine  owners  still  had  no  prospect 
of  getting  the  upper  hand.  One  way  was,  however,  still  open  to  them.  They 
remembered  the  cottage  System;  it  occurred  to  them  that  the  houses  of  the  rebel- 
lious  spirits  were  their  property.  In  July,  notice  to  quit  wasserved  the  workers 
and,  in  a week,  the  whole  forty  thousand  were  put  out  of  doors.  This  measure 
was  carried  out  with  revolting  cruelty.  The  sick,  the  feeble,  old  men  and  little 
children,  even  women  in  childbirth,  were  mercilessly  turn  from  their  beds  and  cast 
into  the  roadside  ditches.  One  agent  dragged  by  the  hair,  from  her  bed  and  in- 
to  the  Street,  a woman  in  the  pangs  of  childbirth.  Soldiers  and  police  in  crowds 
were  present,  ready  to  fire  at  the  first  Symptom  of  resistence,  on  the  slightest 
hint  of  the  Justices  of  the  Peace  who  had  brought  about  the  whole  brutal  pro- 
cedure.  This,  too,  the  workingmen  endured  without  resistence.  The  hope  had 
been  that  the  men  would  use  violence;  they  were  spurred  on  with  all  force  to  in- 
fringements  of  the  laws,  to  furnish  an  excuse  for  making  an  end  of  the  strike  by 
the  intervention  of  the  military.  The  homeless  miners  remembering  the  warnings 
of  their  Attorney  General,  remained  unmoved,  set  up  their  household  goods  upon 
the  moors  or  the  harvested  fields,  and  held  out.  Some,  who  had  no  other  place, 
encamped  on  the  roadsides  and  in  ditches,  others  upon  land  belonging  to  other 
people  whereupon  they  were  prosecuted  and,  having  caused  “ damage  of  the  value 
of  a halfpenny,"  were  fined  a pound  and,  being  unable  to  pay  it,  worked  it  out 
on  the  treadmill.  Thus  they  lived  eight  weeks  and  more  of  the  wet  fag  end 
of  last  Summer  under  the  open  sky  with  their  families,  with  no  further  sheU 
ter  for  themselves  and  their  little  ones  than  the  calico  curtainsof  their  beds;  with 
no  other  help  than  the  scanty  allowances  of  their  Union  and  the  fast  shrinking 
credit  with  the  small  dealers.  Hereupon  Lord  Londonderry,  who  owns  consider- 
ableminesin  Durham,  threatened  the  small  tradesmen  in  “ his  ” town  of  Seahain 
with  his  most  high  displeasure  if  they  should  continue  to  give  credit  to  “his  ” rebel- 
lious  workers.  This  “ noble  ”Lord  made  himself  the  first  down  of  the  turnout  in 
consequence  of  the  ridiculous,  pompous,  ungrammatical  Ukases  addressed  to  the 
workers,  which  he  published  from  time  to  time,  with  no  other  result  than  the 
merriment  of  the  nation.  When  none  of  their  efforts  produced  any  effect,  the  mine 
owners  imported,  at  great  expense,  hands  from  Ireland  and  such  r’emote  parts  of 
Wales  as  have  as  yet  no  labor  movement.  And  when  the  competition  of  workers 
against  workers  was  thus  restored  the  strength  of  the  strikers  collapsed.  The 
mine  owners  obliged  them  to  renounce  the  Union,  abandon  Roberts  and 
accept  the  conditions  laid  down  by  the  employers.  Thus  ended  at  the  dose  of 
September  the  great  five  months'  battle  of  the  coal  miners  against  the  mine 
owners,  a battle  fought  on  the  part  of  the  oppressed  with  an  endurance,  courage, 
Intelligence  and  coolness  which  d^^mands  the  highest  admiration.  What  a degree 
of  true  human  culture  of  enthusiasm  and  strength  of  character  such  a battle 
implies,  on  the  part  of  men  who,  as  we  have  seen  in  the  Children's  Employment 
Commission’s  Report,  were  described  as  late  as  1840,  as  being  thoioughly  brutal 
and  wanting  in  moral  sense!  But  how  hard,  too,  must  have  been  the  pressure 


173 


which  brought  these  forty  thousand  Colliers  to  rise  as  one  man  and  to  fight  out 
the  battle  like  an  army  not  only  well  disciplined  but  enthusiastic,  an  army  pos- 
sessed  of  one  single  determination,  with  the  greatest  coolness  and  composure  to 
a point  beyond  which  further  resistence  woiild  have  been  madness.  And  what  a 
battle!  Not  against  visible,  mortal  enemies,  but  against  hunger,  want,  misery, 
and  homelessness,  against  their  own  passions  provoked  to  madness  by  the  bru- 
tality  of  wealth.  If  they  had  revolted  with  violence,  they,  the  unarmed  and  de- 
fenceless,  would  have  been  shot  down,  and  a day  or  two  would  have  decided  the 
victory  of  the  owners.  This  lawabiding  reserve  was  no  fear  of  the  constable’s 
Staff,  it  was  the  result  of  deliberation,  the  best  proof  of  the  intelligence  and  self- 
control  of  the  workingmen. 

Thus  were  the  workingmen  forced  once  more,  in  spite  of  their  nnexampled 
endurance,  to  succumb  to  the  mighi  of  Capital.  But  the  fight  had  not  been  in 
vain.  First  of  all,  this  nineteen  weeks’  strike  had  torn  the  miners  of  the  North 
of  England  forever,  from  the  intellectual  deatl^n  which  they  had  hitherto  lain; 
they  have  left  their  sleep,  are  alert  to  defend  their  interests,  and  have  entered 
the  movement  of  civilization,  and  especially  the  movement  of  the  workers.  The 
strike,  which  first  brought  to  light  the  whole  cruelty  of  the  owners,  has 
established  the  Opposition  of  the  workers  here,  forever,  and  made  at  least  two- 
thirds  of  them  Chartists;  and  the  acquisition  of  thirty  thousand  such  determined, 
experienced  men  is  certainly  of  great  value  to  the  Chartists.  Then,  too.  the 
endurance  and  lawabiding  which  characterized  the  whole  strike,  coupled  with 
the  active  agitation  which  accompanied  it,  has  fixed  public  attention  upon  the 
miners.  On  the  occasion  of  the  debate  upon  the  export  duty  on  coal,  Thomas 
Duncombe,  the  only  decidedly  Chartist  member  of  the  Ilouse  of  Commons, 
brought  Up  the  condition  of  the  coal  miners,  had  their  petition  read,  and  by  his 
Speech  forced  the  bourgeois  journals  to  publish  at  least  in  their  reports  of 
Parliamentary  proceedings,  a correct  Statement  of  the  case.  Immediately  after 
the  strike,  occurred  the  explosion  at  Haswell;  Roberts  went  to  London, 
demanded  an  audience  with  Peel,  insisted  as  reoresentative  of  the  miners  upon 
a thorough  investigation  of  the  case,  and  succeeded  in  having  the  first  geological 
and  Chemical  notabilities  of  England,  Professors  Lyell  and  Faraday,  com- 
missioned  to  visit  the  spot.  As  several  other  explosions  followed  in  quick  suc- 
cession,  and  Roberts  again  laid  the  details  before  the  Piime  Minister,  the  latter 
promised  to  propose  the  necessary  measures  for  the  protection  of  the  workers,  if 
possible,  in  the  next  session  of  Parliament,  i.  e.,  the  present  one  of  1845.  All 
this  would  not  have  been  accomplished  if  these  workers  had  not,  by  means  of 
the  strike,  proved  themselves  freedom-loving  men  worthy  of  all  respect,  and  if 
they  had  not  eneaged  Roberts  as  their  counsel. 

Scarcely  had  it  become  known  that  the  coal  miners  of  the  North  had  been 
forced  to  renounce  the  Union  and  discharge  Roberts,  when  the  miners  of 
Lancashire  formed  a Union  of  some  ten  thousand  men,  and  guaranteed  their 
Attorney  General  a salary  of  ;!^I200  a year.  In  the  autumn  of  last  year  they 
collected  more  than  £700,  rather  more  than  ;^200  of  which  they  expended  upon 


174 


salaries  and  judicial  expenses,  and  the  rest  chiefly  in  support  of  men  out  of 
work,  either  through  want  of  employment  or  through  dissensions  with  their  em- 
ployers.  Thus  the  workingmen  are  constantly  coming  to  see  more  clearly  that, 
United,  they  too  are  a respectable  power,  and  can,  in  the  last  extremity,  defy 
even  the  might  of  the  bourgeoisie.  And  this  insight,  the  gain  of  all  labor 
movements,  has  been  won  for  all  the  miners  of  England  by  the  Union  and  the 
strike  of  1844.  In  a very  short  time  the  difference  of  intelligence  and  energy 
which  now  exists  in  favor  of  the  factory  operatives  'will  have  vanished,  and  the 
miners  of  the  kingdom  will  be  able  to  stand  abreast  of  them  in  every  respect. 
Thus  one  piece  of  Standing  ground  after  another  is  undermined  beneath  the 
feet  of  the  bourgeoisie;  and  how  long  will  it  be  before  their  whole  social  and 
political  editice  collapses  with  the  basis  upon  which  it  rests?^ 

But  the  bourgeoisie  will  not  take  warning.  The  resistance  of  the  miners  does 
but  embitter  it  the  more.  Instead  of  appreciating  this  forward  Step  in  the 
general  movement  of  the  worker»,  the  property  holding  dass  saw  in  it  only  a 
source  of  rage  against  a dass  of  people  who  are  fools  enough  to  declare  them- 
selves  no  longer  subrrissive  to  the  treatment  they  had  hitherto  received.  It  saw 
in  the  just  demands  of  the  non-possessing  workers  only  impertinent  discontent, 
mad  rebellion  against  “ divine  and  human  Order;”  and,  in  the  best  case,  a suc- 
cess  (to  be  resisted  by  the  bourgeoisie  with  all  its  might)  won  by  ‘ ‘ ill-inten- 
tioned  demagogues  who  live  by  agitation  and  are  too  lazy  to  work.”  It  sought, 
of  course  without  success,  to  represent  to  the  workers  that  Roberts  and  the 
Union’s  agents,  whom  the  Union  very  naturally  had  to  pay,  were  insolent 
swindlers,  who  drew  the  last  farthing  from  the  workingmen’s  pockets.  When 
such  insanity  prevails  in  the  property-holding  dass,  when  it  is  so  blinded  by  its 
momentary  profit  that  it  no  longer  has  eyes  for  the  most  conspicuous  signs  of 
the  times,  surely  all  hope  of  a peaceful  solution  of  the  social  question  for 
England  must  be  abandoned.  The  only  possible  solution  is  a violent  revolution 
which  cannot  fall  to  take  place. 


The  agricultural  Proletariat. 


We  have  seen  in  the  introduction  how,  simultaneously  with  the  small 
bourgeoisie  and  the  modest  independence  of  the  former  workers,  the  small 
peasantry  also  was  ruined  when  the  former  Union  of  industrial  aud  agricultural 
work  was  dissolved,  the  abandoned  fields  thrown  together  into  large  farms,  and 
the  small  peasants  superseded  by  the  overwhelming  competition  of  the  large 
farmers.  Instead  of  being  landowners  or  leaseholders,  as  they  had  been  hither- 
to, they  were  now  obliged  to  hire  themselves  as  laborers  to  the  large  farmers  or 
the  landlords.  For  a time  this  position  was  endurable,  though  a deterioration 


I.  The  coal  miners  have  at  this  moment,  1886,  six  of  their  body  sitting  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. 


175 


in  comparison  with  their  former  one.  The  extension  of  industry  kept  pace  with 
the  incrcase  of  population  until  the  progress  of  manufacture  began  to  assume  a 
slower  pace,  and  the  perpetual  improvement  of  machinery  made  it  impossible 
for  manufacture  to  absorb  the  whole  surplus  of  the  agricultural  population.  From 
this  time  forward,  the  want  which  had  hitherto  existed  only  in  the  manufactur- 
ing  districts,  and  then  only  at  times,  appeared  in  the  agricultural  districts,  too. 
The  twenty-five  years’  struggle  with  France  came  to  an  end  at  about  the  samc 
time;  the  diminished  production  at  the  various  seats  of  the  wars;  the  shutting 
off  of  Imports  and  the  necessity  of  providing  for  the  British  army  in  Spain,  had 
given  English  agriculture  an  artificial  prosperity,  and  had  besides  withdrawn  to 
the  army  vast  numbers  of  workers  from  their  ordinary  occupations.  This  check 
upon  the  import  trade,  the  opportunity  for  exportation,  and  the  military  demand 
for  workers  now  suddenly  came  to  an  end;  and  the  necessary  consequence  was 
what  the  English  call  agricultural  distress.  The  farmers  had  to  seil  their  corn 
at  low  prices,  and  could  therefore  pay  only  low  wages.  In  1815,  in  Order  to 
keep  up  prices,  the  Corn  Laws  were  passed,  prohibiting  the  importation  of  corn 
so  long  as  the  price  of  wheat  continued  less  than  80  Shillings  per  quarter. 
These  naturally  ineffective  laws  were  several  times  modified,  but  did  not  succeed 
in  ameliorating  the  distress  in  the  agricultural  districts.  All  that  they  did  was 
to  change  the  disease  which,  under  free  competition  from  abroad,  would  have 
assumed  an  acute  form  culminating  in  a series  of  crises,  into  a chronic  one 
which  bore  heavily  but  unifo.  mly  upon  the  farm  laborers. 

For  a time  after  the  rise  of  the  agricultural  Proletariat,  the  patriarchal  relation 
between  master  and  man  which  was  being  destroyed  for  manufacture,  developed 
here,  the  same  relation  of  the  farmer  to  his  hands  which  still  exists  almost 
everywhere  in  Germany.  So  long  as  this  lasted,  the  poverty  of  the  farm  hands 
was  less  conspicuous;  they  shared  the  fate  of  the  farmer,  and  were  discharged 
only  in  cases  of  the  direst  necessity.  But  now  all  this  is  changed.  The  farm 
hands  have  become  day  laborers  almost  everywhere,  are  employed  only  when 
needed  by  the  farmers,  and  therefore  often  have  no  work  for  weeks  together, 
especially  in  winter.  In  the  patriarchal  time,  tlie  hands  and  their  families  lived 
on  the  farm  and  their  children  grew  up  there,  the  farmer  trying  to  find  occupa- 
tion  on  the  spot  for  the  oncoming  generation;  day  laborers,  then,  were  the 
exception,  not  the  rule.  Thus  there  was,  on  every  farm,  a larger  number  of 
hands  than  were  strictly  necessary.  It  became,  therefore,  the  interest  of  the 
farmers  to  dissolve  this  relation,  drive  the  farm  hand  from  the  farm,  and  trans- 
form  him  into  a day  laborer.  This  took  place  pretty  generally  towards  the  year 
1830,  and  the  consequence  was  that  the  hitherto  latent  overpopulation  was  set 
free,  the  rate  of  wages  forced  down,  and  the  Poor  Rate  enormously  increased. 
From  this  time  the  agricultural  districts  became  the  headquarters  of  permanent, 
as  the  manufacturing  districts  had  long  been  of  periodic  pauperism;  and  the 
modification  of  the  Poor  Law  was  the  first  measure  which  the  State  was  obliged 
to  apply  to  the  daily  increasing  impoverishment  of  the  country  parishes.  More- 
over, the  constant  extension  of  farming  on  a large  scale,  the  introduction  of 


176 


threshing  and  other  machines,  and  the  employment  of  women  and  children 
(which  is  now  so  general  that  its  effects  have  recently  been  investigated  by  a 
special  official  Commission),  threw  a large  number  of  men  out  of  employment. 
It  is  manifest,  therefore,  that  here,  too,  the  System  of  industrial  production  has 
made  its  entrance,  by  means  of  farming  on  a large  scale,  by  the  abolition  of  the 
patriarchal  relation  which  is  of  the  greatest  importance  just  here,  by  the  intro- 
duction  of  machinery,  steam,  and  the  labor  of  women  and  children.  In  so 
doing,  it  has  swept  the  last  and  most  stationary  portion  of  working  humanity 
into  the  revolutionary  movement.  But  the  longer  agriculture  had  remained 
stationary,  the  heavier  now  became  the  bürden  iipon  the  worker,  the  more 
violently  broke  forth  the  results  of  the  disorganization  of  the  old  social  fabric. 
The  “ overpopulation  ” came  to  light  all  at  once,  and  could  not,  as  in  the 
manufacturing  districls,  be  absorbed  bv  the  needs  of  an  increasing  production. 
New  factories  could  always  be  built,  if  there  were  Consumers  for  their  products, 
but  new  land  could  not  be  created.  The  cultivation  of  waste  common  land  was 
too  daring  a speculation  for  the  bad  times  following  Ine  conclusion  of  peace. 
The  necessary  consequence  was  that  the  competition  oi  the  workers  among 
themselves  reached  the  highest  point  of  intensity,  and  wages  feil  to  the 
minimum.  So  long  as  the  old  Poor  Law  existed,  the  workers  received  relief 
from  the  rates;  wages  natural  ly  feil  still  lower,  because  the  farmers  forced  the 
largest  possible  number  of  laborers  to  claim  relief.  The  higher  poor  rate, 
necessitated  by  the  surplus  population,  was  only  increased  by  this  measure,  and 
the  New  Poor  Law,  of  which  we  shall  have  more  to  say  later,  was  now  enacted 
as  a remedy.  But  this  did  not  improve  matters.  Wages  did  not  rise,  the 
surplus  population  could  not  be  got  rid  of,  and  the  cruelty  of  the  new  law  did 
but  serve  to  embitter  the  people  to  the  utmost.  Even  the  poor  rate  which 
diminished  at  first  after  the  passage  of  the  New  Law,  attained  its  old  height 
after  a few  years.  Its  only  effect  was  that  whereas  previously  three  to  four 
million  half  paupers  had  existed,  a million  of  total  paupers  now  appeared,  and 
the  rest,  still  half  paupers,  merely  went  without  relief.  The  poverty  in  the 
agricultural  districts  has  increased  wdth  every  year.  The  people  live  in  the 
greatest  want,  whole  families  must  struggle  along  with  6,  7 or  8 Shillings  a 
week,  and  at  times  have  nothing.  Let  us  hear  a description  of  this  population 
given  by  a Liberal  member  of  Parliament  as  early  as  1830:^ 

“ An  English  agricultural  laborer  and  an  English  pauper,  these  words  are 
synonymous.  His  father  was  a pauper  and  his  mother’s  milk  concained  no 
nourishment.  From  his  earliest  childhood  he  had  bad  food,  and  only  half 
enough  to  still  his  hunger,  and  even  yet  he  undergoes  the  pangs  of  unsatisfied 
hunger  almost  all  the  time  that  he  is  not  asleep.  He  is  half  clad  and  has  not 
more  fire  than  barely  suffices  to  cook  his  scanty  meal.  And  so  cold  and  damp 
are  always  at  home  with  him  and  leave  him  only  in  fine  weather.  He  is  mar- 
ried,  but  he  knows  nothing  of  the  joys  of  the  husband  and  father.  His  wifeand 


1.  E.  G.  Wakefielil,  M.  P.  Swing  unmasked,  or  the  Cause  of  Rural  Incendiarism,  London, 
1831,  Pamphlet.  The  foregoing  extracts  may  be  found  pp.  9 — 13,  the  passages  dealing  in  the 
original  with  the  then  still  existirg  Old  Poor  Law  being  here  omitted. 


177 


cliildren,  hiingry,  rarely  warm,  often  ill  and  helpless,  always  careworn  and 
hopeless  like  himself,  are  naturally  grasping,  selfish  and  troublesome,  and  so  to 
use  bis  own  expression,  he  hates  the  sight  of  them,  and  enters  bis  cot  only 
because  it  offers  bim  a trifle  more  shelter  from  rain  and  wind  than  a hedge.  He 
must  Support  bis  family,  though  he  cannot  do  so,  whence  come  beggary,  deceit 
of  all  sorts,  ending  in  fully  developed  craftiness.  If  he  were  so  inclined,  he  yet 
bas  not  the  courage  which  makes  of  the  more  energetic  of  his  dass  Wholesale 
poachers  and  smugglers.  But  he  pilfers  when  occasion  offers,  and  teaches  his 
children  to  lie  and  steal.  His  abject  and  submissive  demeanor  towards  his 
wealthy  neighbors  shows  that  they  treat  him  roughly  and  with  suspicion;  hence 
he  fears  and  hates  them,  but  he  never  will  injure  them  by  force.  He  is  de- 
praved  through  and  through,  too  far  gone  to  possess  even  the  strength  of 
despair.  His  wretched  existence  is  brief,  rheumatisin  and  asthma  bring  him  to 
the  workhouse,  where  he  will  draw  his  last  breath  without  a single  pleasant 
recollection,  and  will  make  room  for  another  luckless  wretch  to  live  and  die  as 
he  has  done.” 

Our  author  adds  that  besides  this  dass  of  agricultural  laborers,  there  is  still 
another,  somewhat  more  energetic  and  better  endowed  physically,  mentally  and 
morally;  those,  namely,  who  live  as  wretchedly,  but  were  not  born  to  this  condi- 
tion. These  he  represents  as  better  in  their  family  life,  but  smugglers  and 
poachers  who  get  into  frequent  bloody  conflicts  with  the  gamekeepers  and 
revenue  ofiicers  of  the  coast,  become  more  embittered  against  society  during  the 
prison  life  which  they  often  undergo,  and  so  stand  abreast  of  the  first  dass  in 
their  hatred  of  the  property  holders.  “ And,”  he  says,  in  closing,  “ this  whole 
dass  is  called  by  courtesy,  the  bold  peasantry  of  England.” 

Down  to  the  present  time,  this  description  applies  to  the  greater  portion  of 
the  agricultural  laborers  of  England.  In  June,  1844,  the  Times  sent  a cor- 
respondent  into  the  agricultural  districts  to  report  upon  the  condition  of  this 
dass,  and  the  report  which  he  furnished  agreed  wholly  with  the  foregoing.  In 
certain  districts  wages  were  not  more  than  six  Shillings  a week;  not  more,  that 
is,  than  in  many  districts  in  Germany,  while  the  prices  of  all  the  necessaries  of 
life  are  at  least  twice  as  high.  What  sort  of  life  these  people  lead  may  be 
imagined;  their  food  scanty  and  bad,  their  clothing  ragged,  their  dwellings 
cramped  and  desolate,  small  wretched  huts  with  no  comforts  whatsoever;  and 
for  young  people  lodging  houses,  where  men  and  women  are  scarcely  separated 
and  illegitimate  intercourse  thus  provoked.  One  or  two  days  without  work  in 
the  course  of  a month  must  inevitably  plunge  such  people  into  the  direst  want. 
Moreover,  they  cannot  combine  to  raise  wages  because  they  are  scattered,  and 
if  one  alone  refuses  to  work  for  low  wages,  there  are  dozens  out  of  work  or  sup- 
ported  by  the  rates  who  are  thankful  for  the  most  trifling  offer,  while  to  him 
who  declines  work,  every  other  form  of  relief  than  the  hated  workhouse  is 
refused  by  the  Poor  Law  guardians  as  to  a lazy  vagabond;  for  the  guardians  are 
the  very  farmers  from  whom  or  from  whose  neighbors  and  acquaintances  alone 
he  can  get  work.  And  not  from  one  or  two  special  districts  of  England  do  such 
reports  come.  On  the  contrary,  the  distress  is  general,  equally  great  in  the 
North  and  South,  the  East  and  West.  The  condition  of  the  laborers  in  Suffolk 
and  Norfolk  corresponds  exactly  with  that  of  Devonshire,  Hampshire  and 


178 


Sussex.  Wages  are  as  low  in  Dorsetshire  and  Oxfordshire  as  in  Kent,  and 
Surrey,  Buckinghamshire  and  Cambridgeshire. 

One  especially  barbaric  cruelty  against  the  working  dass  is  embodied  in  the 
Game  Laws,  which  are  riiore  stringent  than  in  any  other  country,  while  the 
game  is  plentiful  beyond  all  conception.  The  English  peasant  who,  according 
to  the  old  English  custom  and  tradition,  sees  in  poaching  only  a natural  and 
noble  expression  of  courage  and  daring  is  stimulated  still  further  by  the  contrast 
between  his  own  poverty  and  the  ca7'  iel  est  noire  plaisir  of  the  Lord,  who  pre- 
serves  thousands  of  hares  and  game  birds  for  his  private  enjoyment.  The 
laborer  lays  snares,  or  shoots  here  and  there  a piece  of  game.  It  does  not  injure 
the  landlord  as  a matter  of  fact,  for  he  has  a vast  superfluity,  and  it  brings  the 
poadier  a meal  for  himself  and  his  starving  family.  But  if  he  is  caught  he  goes 
to  jail,  and  for  a second  offense  receives  at  the  least  seven  years’  transportation. 
From  the  severity  of  these  laws  arise  the  frequent  bloody  conflicts  with  the 
gamekeepers  which  lead  to  a number  of  murders  every  year.  Hence  the  post 
of  gamekeeper  is  not  only  dangerous  but  of  ill-repute  and  despised.  Last  year, 
in  two  cases,  gamekeepers  shot  themselves  rather  than  continue  their  work. 
Such  is  the  moderate  price  at  which  the  landed  aristocracy  purchases  the  noble 
Sport  of  shooting;  but  what  does  it  matter  to  the  lords  of  the  soil?  Whether 
one  or  two  more  or  less  of  the  “surplus”  live  or  die  matters  nothing,  and  even 
if  in  consequence  of  the  game  laws  half  the  surplus  population  could  be  put  out 
of  the  way,  it  would  be  all  the  better  for  the  other  half — according  to  the 
philanthropy  of  the  English  landlords. 

Although  the  conditions  of  life  in  the  country,  the  isolated  dwellings,  the 
stability  of  the  surroundings  of  the  occupations,  and  consequently  of.  the 
thoughts,  are  decidedly  unfavorable  to  all  development,  yet  poverty  and  want 
bear  their  fruits  even  here.  The  manufacturing  and  mining  Proletariat  emerged 
early  from  the  first  stage  of  resistance  to  our  social  order,  the  direct  rebellion  of 
the  individual  by  the  perpetration  of  crime;  but  the  peasants  are  still  in  this 
stage  at  the  present  time.  Their  favorite  method  of  social  warfare  is  incendiar- 
ism.  In  the  winter  which  followed  the  Revolution  of  July,  in  1830-31,  these 
incendiarisms  first  became  general.  Disturbances  had  taken  place,  and  the 
whole  region  of  Sussex  and  the  adjacent  counties  has  been  brought  into  a state 
of  excitement  in  October,  in  consequence  of  an  increase  of  the  coast  guard 
(which  made  smuggling  much  more  difficult  and  “ ruined  the  coast” — in  the 
words  of  a farmer),  changes  in  the  Poor  Law,  low  wages  and  the  introduction 
of  machinery.  In  the  winter  the  farmers’  hay  and  corn-stacks  were  burnt  in 
the  fields,  and  the  very  barns  and  stables  under  their  Windows.  Nearly  every 
night  a couple  of  such  fires  blazed  up,  and  spread  horror  among  the  farmers  and 
landlords.  The  offenders  were  rarely  discovered,  and  the  workers  attributed  the 
incendiarism  to  ä mythical  person  whom  they  named  “ Swing.”  Men  puzzled 
their  brains  to  discover  who  this  Swing  could  be  and  whence  this  rage  among 
the  poor  of  the  country  districts.  Of  the  great  motive  power,  Want,  Oppression, 
only  a single  person  here  and  there  thought,  and  certainly  no  one  in  the  agricul- 


179 


tural  districts.  Since  that  year  the  incendiarisms  have  been  repeated  every 
winter,  with  each  recurring  unemployed  season  of  the  agricultural  laborers.  In 
the  winter  of  1843-44,  they  were  once  more  extraordinarily  frequent.  There 
lies  before  me  a series  of  numbers  of  the  Northern  Star  of  that  time,  each  one 
of  which  contains  a report  of  several  incendiarisms,  stating  in  each  case  its 
authority.  The  numbers  wanling  in  the  following  list  1 have  not  at  hand;  but 
they,  too,  doubtless  contain  a number  of  cases.  Moreover,  such  a sheet  cannot 
possibly  ascertain  all  the  cases  which  occur.  November  25th,  1843,  two  cases; 
several  earlier  ones  are  discussed.  December  i6th,  in  Bedfordshire,  general  ex- 
citement for  a fortnight  past  in  consequence  of  frequent  incendiarisms,  of  which 
several  take  place  every  night.  Two  great  farmhouses  burnt  down  within  the 
last  few  days;  in  Cambridgeshire  four  great  farmhouses,  Hertfordshire  one,  and 
besides  these,  flfteen  other  incendiarisms  in  different  districts.  December  30th, 
in  Norfolk  one,  Suffolk  two,  Essex  two,  Cheshire  one,  Lancashire  one,  Derby, 
Lincoln  and  the  South  twelve.  January  6th,  1844,  in  all  ten.  January  i3th, 
seven.  January  20th,  four  incendiarisms.  From  this  time  forward,  three  or 
four  incendiarisms  per  week  are  reported,  and  not  as  formerly  until  the  spring 
only,  but  far  into  July  and  August.  And  that  criines  of  this  sort  are  expected 
to  increase  in  the  approaching  hard  season  of  1844-45,  the  English  papers 
already  indicate. 

What  do  my  readers  think  of  such  a state  of  things  in  the  quiet,  idyllic 
country  districts  of  England?  Is  this  social  war,  or  is  it  not?  Is  it  a natural 
state  of  things  which  can  last?  Yet  here  the  landlords  and  farmers  are  as  dull 
and  stupefied,  as  blind  to  everything  which  does  not  directly  put  money  into 
their  pockets,  as  the  manufacturers  and  the  bourgeoisie  in  general  in  the  manu- 
facturing  districts.  If  the  latter  promise  their  employees  Salvation  through  the 
repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws,  the  landlords  and  a great  part  of  the  farmers  promise 
theirs  Heaven  upon  Earth  from  the  maintenance  of  the  same  laws.  But  in 
neither  case  do  the  property  holders  succeed  in  winning  the  workers  to  the  Sup- 
port of  their  pet  hobby.  Eike  the  operatives,  the  agricultural  laborers,  are 
thoroughly  indifferent  to  the  repeal  or  non-repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws.  Yet  the 
question  is  an  important  one  for  both.  That  is  to  say — by  the  repeal  of  the 
Corn  Laws,  free  competition,  the  present  social  economy  is  carried  to  its 
extreme  point;  all  further  development  within  the  present  Order  comes  to  an 
end,  and  the  only  possible  Step  further  is  a radical  transformation  of  the  social 
Order.  ^ For  the  agricultural  laborers  the  question  has,  further,  the  following 
important  bearing:  Free  importation  of  corn  involves  (how,  I cannot  explain 
here)  the  emancipation  of  the  farmers  from  the  landlords,  their  transformation 
into  Liberais.  Towards  this  consummation  the  Anti-Corn  Law  League  has 
already  largely  contributed,  and  this  is  its  only  real  Service.  When  the  farmers 
become  Liberais,  i,  e.y  conscious  bourgeois,  the  agricultural  laborers  will  inevitably 
become  Chartists  and  Socialists;  the  first  change  involves  the  second.  And  that  a 


1,  This  has  been  Uterally  fulfilled  after  a period  of  unexampled  extension  of  trade;  Free  Trade 
has  landed  England  in  a crisis  which  began  in  1878  and  is  still  increasing  in  energy  in  1886. 


new  movement  is  already  beginning-  among  the  agricultural  laborers  is  proved  by 
a meeting  which  Earl  Radnor,  a Liberal  landlord,  caused  to  be  held  in  October, 
1844,  near  Highworth,  where  his  estates  lie,  to  pass  resolutions  againstthe  Corn 
Laws.  At  this  meeting  the  laborers,  perfectly  indifferent  as  to  these  laws, 
demanded  something  wholly  different,  namely  small  holdings  at  low  rent  for 
themselves,  telling  Earl  Radnor  all  sorts  of  bitter  truths  to  his  face.  Thus  the 
movement  of  the  working  dass  is  finding  its  way  into  the  remote,  stationery, 
mentally  dead  agricultural  districts;  and  thanks  to  the  general  distress  will  soon 
be  as  firmly  rooted  and  energetic  as  in  the  manufacturing  districts.^ 

As  to  the  religious  state  of  the  agricultural  laborers,  they  are,  it  is  true,  more 
pious  than  the  manufacturing  operatives;  but  they,  too,  are  greatly  at  odds  with 
the  Church — for  in  these  districts  members  of  the  Established  Church  almost  ex- 
clusively  are  to  be  found.  A correspondent  of  the  Morning  Chro}iicle  who,  over 
the  signature  “ One  who  has  whistled  at  the  plough,”  reports  his  tour  through  the 
agricultural  districts  relates,  among  other  things,  the  following  conversation  with 
some  laborers  after  Service:  “ I asked  one  of  these  people  whether  the  preacher 
of  the  day  was  their  own  clergyman.  “ Yes,  blast  him!  He  is  our  own  parson 
and  begs  the  whole  time.  He’s  been  always  a-begging  aslongas  l’veknown  him.” 
(The  sermon  had  been  upon  a mission  to  the  heathen.)  “And  as  long  as  Tve 
known  him  too,  ” added  another;  “ and  I never  knew  a parson  but  what  was  beg- 
ging  for  this  or  the  other.”  “ Yes,”  said  a woman,  who  had  just  come  out  of  the 
church,  “ and  look  how  wages  are  going  down,  and  see  the  rieh  vagabonds  with 
whom  the  parsons  eat  and  drink  and  hunt.  So  help  me  God,  we  are  more  fit  to 
starve  in  the  workhouse  than  pay  the  parsons  as  go  among  the  heathen.”  “ And 
why,”  said  another,  “ don’t  they  send  the  parsons  as  drones  everyday  in  Salisbury 
Cathedral,  for  nobody  but  the  bare  stones  ? Why  don’t  they  go  among  the  hea- 
then?” “ They  don’t  go,”  said  the  old  man  whom  I had  first  asked,  “because 
they  are  rieh,  they  have  all  the  land  they  need,  they  want  the  money  in  Order  to 
get  rid  of  the  poor  parsons.  I know  what  they  want.  I know  them  too  long  for 
that.”  “ But,  good  friends,”  I asked,  “ you  surely  do  not  always  come  out  of 
the  church  with  such  bitter  feelings  towards  the  preacher  ? Why  do  you  go  at 
all?  ” “What  for  do  we  go  ?”  said  the  woman.  “ We  must  if  we  do  not  want  to 
lose  everything,  work  and  all,  we  must.”  I learned  later  that  they  had  certain 
little  Privileges  of  fire  wood  and  potato  land  (which  they  paid  for!)  on  condition  of 
going  to  church.”  After  describing  their  poverty  and  ignorance,  the  correspon- 
dent closes  by  saying:  “ And  now  I boldly  assert  that  the  condition  of  these 
people,  their  poverty,  their  hatred  of  the  church,  their  external  Submission  and 
inward  bitterness  against  the  ecclesiastical  dignitaries  is  the  rule  among  the 
country  parishes  of  England,  and  its  opposite  is  the  exception.” 

If  the  peasantry  of  England  shows  the  consequences  which  a numerous 
agricultural  Proletariat  in  connection  with  large  farming  involves  for  the  country 
districts,  Wales  illustrates  the  ruin  of  the  small  holders.  If  the  English  country 

T.  The  Agricultural  Laborers  have  now  a Trades  Union;  their  most  energetic  representative, 
Joseph  Arch,  was  elected  M.  P.  in  1885. 


iSi 


parishes  reproduce  the  antagonism  belween  capitalist  and  proletarian,  the  state 
of  the  Welsh  peasantry  corresponds  to  the  progressive  ruin  of  the  small  bour- 
geoisie  in  the  towns.  In  Wales  are  to  be  found,  almost  exclusively,  small  holders 
who  cannot  with  like  profit  seil  their  products  as  cheaply  as  the  larger,  more  favor- 
ably  situated  English  farmers,  with  whom,  however,  they  are  obliged  to  compete. 
Moreover,  in  some  places  the  quality  of  the  land  admits  of  the  raising  of  live  stock 
only,  which  is  but  slightly  profitable.  Then,  too,  these  Welsh  farmers  by  reason 
of  their  separate  nationality  which  they  retain  pertinaciously,  are  much  more 
stationary  than  the  English  farmers.  But  the  competition  among  themselves  and 
with  their  English  neighbors  (and  the  increased  mortgages  upon  their  land  con- 
sequent  upon  this),  has  reduced  them  to  such  a state  that  they  can  scarcely  live  at 
all;  and  because  they  have  not  recognized  the  true  cause  of  their  wretched  con- 
dition, they  attribute  it  to  all  sorts  of  small  causes,  such  as  high  tolls,  etc., 
which  do  check  the  development  of  agriculture  and  commerce,  but  are  taken 
into  account  as  Standing  charges  by  every  one  who  takes  a holding,  and  are 
therefore  really  ultimately  paid  by  the  landlord.  Here,  too,  the  New  Poor  Law 
is  cordially  hated,  and  by  the  tenants  who  hover  in  perpetual  danger  of  coming 
under  its  sway.  In  1843,  the  famous  “Rebecca”  disturbances  broke  out 
among  the  Welsh  peasantry;  the  men  dressed  in  women’s  clothing,  blackened 
their  faces,  and  feil  in  armed  crowds  upon  the  tollgates,  destroyed  them  amidst 
great  rejoicing  and  firing  of  guns,  demolished  the  toll-keepers’  houses,  wrote 
threatening  letters  in  the  name  of  the  imaginary  “ Rebecca,”  and  once  went  so 
far  as  to  storm  the  workhouse  of  Carmarthon.  Later,  when  the  militia  was 
called  out  and  the  police  strengthened,  the  peasants  drew  them  off  with  wonder- 
ful  skill  upon  false  scents,  demolished  tollgates  at  one  point  while  the  militia, 
lured  by  false  signal  bugles,  was  marching  in  some  opposite  direction;  and 
betook  themselves  finally,  when  the  police  was  too  thoroughly  reinforced,  to 
single  incendiarisms  and  attempts  at  murder.  As  usual,  these  greater  crimes 
were  the  end  of  the  movement.  Many  withdrew  from  disapproval,  others  from 
fear,  and  peace  was  restored  of  itself.  The  government  appointed  a Commission 
to  investigate  the  affair  and  its  causes,  and  this  was  the  end  of  the  matter.  The 
poverty  of  the  peasantry  continues,  however,  and  will  one  day,  since  it  cannot 
under  existing  circumstances  grow  less,  but  must  go  on  intensifying,  produce 
more  serious  manifestations  than  these  humorous  Rebecca  masquerades. 

If  England  illustrates  the  results  of  the  System  of  farming  on  a large  scale 
and  Wales  on  a small  one,  Ireland  exhibits  the  consequences  of  overdividing 
the  soll.  The  great  mass  of  the  population  of  Ireland  consists  of  small  tenants 
who  occupy  a sorry  hut  without  partitions,  and  a potato  patch  just  large  enough 
to  supply  them  most  scantily  with  potatoes  through  the  winter.  In  consequence 
of  the  great  competition  w'hich  prevails  among  these  small  tenants,  the  rent  has 
reached  an  unheard-of  height,  double,  treble  and  quadruple  that  paid  in  Eng- 
land. For  every  agricultural  laborer  seeks  to  become  a tenant-farmer,  and 
though  the  division  of  land  has  gone  so  far,  there  still  rernain  numbers  of 
laborers  in  competition  for  plots.  Although  in  Great  Britain  32,000,000  acres 


i82 


of  land  are  cultivated,  and  in  Ireland  but  14,000,000;  although  Great  Britain 
produces  agricultural  products  to  the  value  of  150, 000, 000,  and  Ireland  of  but 
;^36,ooo,ooo,  there  are  in  Ireland  75,000  agricultural  proletarians  more  than  in 
the  neighboring  island.  ^ How  great  the  competition  for  land  in  Ireland  must  be 
is  evident  from  this  extraordinary  disproportion,  especially  when  one  reflects 
that  the  laborers  in  Great  Britain  are  living  in  the  utmost  distress.  The  con- 
sequence  of  this  competition  is  that  it  is  impossible  for  the  tenants  to  live  much 
better  than  the  laborers,  by  reason  of  the  high  rents  paid.  The  Irish  people  is 
thus  held  in  crushing  poverty,  from  -which  it  cannot  free  itself  under  our  present 
social  conditions.  These  people  live  in  the  most  wretched  clay  huts,  scarcely 
good  enough  for  cattle  pens,  have  scant  food  all  winter  long,  or  as  the  report 
above  quoted  expresses  it,  they  have  potatoes  half  enough  thirty  weeks  in  the 
year,  and  the  rest  of  the  year  nothing.  When  the  time  comes  in  the  spring  at 
w^hich  this  provision  reaches  its  end,  or  can  no  longer  be  used  because  of  its  sprout- 
ing,  wife  and  children  go  forth  to  beg  and  tramp  the  country  with  their  kettle 
in  their  hands.  Meanwhile  the  husband,  after  planting  potatoes  for  the  next 
year,  goes  in  search  of  work  either  in  Ireland  or  England,  and  returns  at  the 
potato  harvest  to  his  family.  This  is  the  condition  in  which  nine-tenths  of  the 
Irish  country  folks  live.  They  are  poor  as  church  mice,  w^ear  the  most  wretched 
rags,  and  stand  upon  the  lovvest  plane  of  intelligence  possible  in  a half  civilized 
country.  According  to  the  report  quoted,  there  are,  in  a population  of  8^ 
millions,  585,000  heads  of  families  in  a state  of  total  destitution;  and  according 
to  other  authorities,  cited  by  Sheriff  Alison,^  there  are  in  Ireland  2,300,000  per- 
sons  who  could  not  live  without  public  or  private  assistance — or  27  per  cent.  of 
the  whole  population  paupers! 

The  cause  of  this  poverty  lies  in  the  existing  social  conditions,  especially  in 
competition  here  found  in  the  form  of  the  subdivision  of  the  soil.  Much  effort 
has  been  spent  in  finding  other  causes.  It  has  been  asserted  that  the  relation  of 
the  tenant  to  the  landlord  who  lets  his  estate  in  large  lots  to  tenants  who  again 
have  their  subtenants,  and  sub-subtenants,  in  turn,  so  that  often  ten  middlemen 
come  between  the  landlord  and  the  actual  cultivator — it  has  been  asserted  that 
the  shameful  law  which  gives  the  landlord  the  right  of  expropriating  the  cultiva- 
tor who  may  have  paid  his  rent  duly,  if  the  first  tenant  fails  to  pay  the  landlord, 
that  this  law  is  to  blame  for  all  this  poverty.  But  all  this  determines  only  the 
form  in  which  the  poverty  manifests  itself.  Make  the  small  tenant  a landowner 
himself  and  what  follows  ? The  majority  could  not  live  upon  their  holdings 
even  if  they  had  no  rent  to  pay,  and  any  slight  improvement  which  might  take 
place  would  be  lost  again  in  a few  years  in  consequence  of  the  rapid  increase  of 
population.  The  children  would  then  live  to  grow  up  under  the  improved  con- 
ditions who  now  die  in  consequence  of  poverty  in  early  childhood.  From 
another  side  comes  the  assertion  that  the  shameless  oppression  inflicted  by  the 
English  is  the  cause  of  the  trouble.  It  is  the  cause  of  the  somewhat  earlier 


1.  Report  of  the  Poor  Law  Commission  upon  Ireland, 

2.  Principles  of  Population,  Vol.  II. 


i83 


appearance  of  this  poverty,  but  not  of  the  poverty  itself.  Or  the  blame  is  laid 
on  the  Protestant  church  forced  upon  a Catholic  nation;  but  divide  among  the 
Irish  what  the  church  takes  from  them,  and  it  does  not  reach  six  Shillings  a 
head.  Besides,  tithes  are  a tax  upon  landed  propcrty,  not  upon  the  tenant, 
though  he  may  nominally  pay  them;  now,  since  the  Commutation  Bill  of  1838, 
the  landlord  pays  the  tithes  directly  and  reckons  so  much  higher  rent,  so  that 
the  tenant  is  none  the  better  off.  And  in  the  same  way  a hundred  other  causes 
of  this  poverty  are  brought  forvvard,  all  proving  as  little  as  these.  This  poverty 
is  the  result  of  our  social  conditions;  apart  from  these,  causes  may  be  found  for 
the  manner  in  which  it  manifests  itself,  but  not  for  the  fact  of  its  existence. 
That  poverty  manifests  itself  in  Ireland  thus  and  not  otherwise  is  owing  to  the 
character  of  the  people,  and  to  their  historical  development.  The  Irish  are  a 
people  related  in  their  whole  character  to  the  Latin  nations,  to  the  French,  and 
especially  to  the  Italians.  The  bad  features  of  their  character  we  have  already 
had  depicted  by  Carlyle.  Let  us  now  hear  an  Irishman,  who  at  least  comes 
nearer  to  the  truth  than  Carlyle,  with  his  prejudice  in  favor  of  the  Teutonic 
character;^ 

“ They  are  restless,  yet  indolent,  clever  and  indiscreet,  stormy,  impatient  and 
improvident;  brave  by  instinct,  generous  without  much  rellection,  quick  to 
revenge  and  forgive  insults,  to  make  and  to  renounce  friendships,  gifted  with 
genius  prodigally,  sparingly  with  judgment.” 

With  the  Irish,  feeling  and  passion  predominate;  reason  must  bow  before 
them.  Their  sensuous,  excitable  nature  prevents  reflection  and  quiet,  persever- 
ing  activity  from  reaching  development — such  a nation  is  utterly  unfit  for 
manufacture  as  now  conducted.  Hence  they  lield  fast  to  agriculture  and 
remained  upon  the  lowest  plane  even  of  that.  With  the  small  subdivisions  of 
land  which  were  not  here  artificially  created  as  in  France  and  on  the  Rhine  by 
the  division  of  great  estates,  but  have  existed  from  time  immemorial,  an  im- 
provement  of  the  soil  by  the  investment  of  Capital  was  not  to  be  thought  of;  and 
it  would,  according  to  Alison,  require  120  million  pounds  sterling  to  bring  the 
soil  up  to  the  not  very  high  state  of  fertility  already  attained  in  England.  The 
English  immigration,  which  might  have  raised  the  Standard  of  Irish  civilization, 
has  contented  itself  with  the  most  brutal  plundering  of  the  Irish  people;  and 
while  the  Irish,  by  their  immigration  into  England,  have  furnished  England  a 
Icaven,  which  will  produce  its  own  results  in  the  future,  they  have  little  for 
which  to  be  thankful  to  the  English  immigration. 

The  attempts  of  the  Irish  to  save  themselves  from  their  present  min,  on  the 
one  hand,  take  the  form  of  crimes.  These  are  the  Order  of  the  day  in  the 
agricultural  districts,  and  are  nearly  alvvays  directed  against  the  most  immediate 
enemies,  the  landlord’s  agents,  or  their  obedient  servants,  the  Protestant  In- 
truders, whose  large  farms  are  made  up  of  the  potato  patches  of  hundred  of 
ejected  families.  Such  crimes  are  especially  frequent  in  the  South  and  West. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  Irish  hope  for  relief  by  means  of  the  agitation  for  the: 

I.  The  State  of  Ireland,  London,  1807;  and  Ed.,  1821.  PampUet. 


184 


repeal  of  the  legislative  Union  with  England.”  From  all  the  foregoing,  it  is 
clear  that  the  uneducated  Irish  must  see  in  the  English  their  worst  enemies;  and 
their  first  hope  of  improvement  in  the  conquest  of  national  independence.  But 
quite  as  clear  is  it,  too,  that  Irish  distress  cannot  be  removed  by  any  Act  of 
Repeal.  Such  an  act  would,  however,  at  once  lay  bare  the  fact  that  the  cause 
of  Irish  misery,  'which  now  seems  to  come  from  abroad,  is  really  to  be  found  at 
home.  Meanwhile,  it  is  an  open  question  whether  the  accomplishment  of 
repeal  will  be  necessary  to  make  this  clear  to  the  Irish.  Hitherlo,  neither 
Chartism  nor  Socialism  has  had  marked  success  in  Ireland. 

I dose  my  observations  upon  Ireland  at  this  point  the  more  readily,  as  the 
Repeal  Agitation  of  1843  and  O’Connell’s  trial  have  been  the  means  of  making 
the  Irish  distress  more  and  more  known  in  Germany. 

We  have  now  followed  the  Proletariat  of  the  British  Islands  through  all 
branches  of  its  activity,  and  found  it  everywhere  living  in  want  and  misery, 
under  totally  inhuman  conditions.  We  have  seen  discontent  arise  with  the  rise 
of  the  Proletariat,  grow,  develop  and  organize;  w^e  have  seen  open  bloodless 
and  bloody  battles  of  the  Proletariat  against  the  bourgeoisie.  We  have  in- 
vestigated  the  principles,  according  to  which,  the  fate,  the  hopes  and  fears  of 
the  Proletariat  are  determined,  and  we  have  found  that  there  is  no  prospect  of 
improvement  in  their  condition. 

We  have  had  an  opportunity,  here  and  there,  of  observing  the  conduct  of  the 
bourgeoisie  towards  the  Proletariat,  and  we  have  found  that  it  considers  only 
itself,  has  only  its  own  advantage  in  view.  However,  in  order  not  to  be  unjust, 
let  US  investigate  its  mode  of  action  somewhat  more  exactly. 

The  Attitüde  of  the  Bourgeoisie 

TOWARDS  THE  PROLETARIAT. 

In  speaking  of  the  bourgeoisie  I include  the  so-called  aristocracy,  for  this  is  a 
privileged  dass,  an  aristocracy,  only  in  contrast  with  the  bourgeoisie,  not  in 
contrast  with  the  Proletariat.  The  proletarian  sees  in  both  only  the  property 
holder,  i.  ^.,  the  bourgeois.  Before  the  privilege  of  property,  all  othei 
Privileges  vanish.  The  sole  difference  is  this,  that  the  bourgeois  proper  Stands 
in  active  relations  with  the  manulacturing  and  in  a measure  with  the  mining 
proletarians  and,  as  farmer,  with  the  agricultural  laborers,  whereas  the  so-called 
aristocrat  comes  into  contact  with  the  agricultural  laborer  only. 

I have  never  seen  a dass  so  deeply  demoralized,  so  incurably  debased  by 
selfishness,  so  corroded  within,  so  incapable  of  progress  as  the  English  bour- 
geoisie; and  I mean  by  this,  especially  the  bourgeoisie  proper,  particularly  the 
Liberal,  Corn  Law  repealing  bourgeoisie.  For  it  nothing  exists  in  this  world 
except  for  the  sake  of  money,  itself  not  excluded.  It  knows  no  bliss  save  that 
of  rapid  gain,  no  pain  save  that  of  losing  gold.  ^ In  the  presence  of  this 
avarice  and  lust  of  gain,  it  is  not  possible  for  a single  human  sentiment  or 

I,  Carlyle  gives  in  his  “Fast  and  Present,”  (London,  1843,)  a splendid  description  of  the 
English  bourgeoisie  and  its  disgusting  money  greed. 


i85 


opinion  to  remain  untainted.  l'rue,  these  English  bourgeois  are  good  husbands 
and  family  men,  and  have  all  sorts  of  other  private  virtues,  and  appear,  in 
ordinary  intercourse,  as  decent  and  respectable  as  all  other  bourgeois;  even  in 
business  they  are  better  to  deal  with  than  the  Germans;  they  do  not  higgle  and 
haggle  so  much  as  our  own  pettifogging  merchants,  but  how  does  this  help  mat- 
ters?  Ultimately,  it  is  self-interest  and  especially  money  gain,  which  alone 
determines  them.  1 once  went  into  Manchester  wilh  such  a bourgeois  and 
spoke  to  him  of  the  bad  unwholesome  method  of  building,  the  frightful  condi- 
tion of  the  working  people’s  quarters,  and  asserted  that  I had  never  seen  so  ill- 
built  a city.  The  man  listened  quietly  to  the  end,  and  said  at  the  corner  where 
we  parted:  “ And  yet  there  is  a great  deal  of  money  made  here;  good  morning, 
sir.”  It  is  utterly  indifferent  to  the  English  bourgeois  whether  his  workingmeiT, 
starve  or  not,  if  only  he  makes  money.  All  the  conditions  of  life  are  measured 
by  money,  and  what  brings  no  money  is  nonsense,  unpractical,  idealistic  bosh. 
Kence,  Political  Economy,  the  Science  of  Wealth,  is  the  favorite  study  of  these 
bartering  Jews.  Every  one  of  them  is  a Political  Economist.  The  relation  of 
the  manufacturer  to  his  operatives  has  nothing  human  in  it;  it  is  purely 
economic.  The  manufacturer  is  Capital,  the  operative,  Labor.  And  if  the 
operative  will  not  be  forced  into  this  abstraction,  if  he  insists  that  he  is  not 
Labor  but  a man,  who  possesses,  among  other  things,  the  attribute  of  labor 
force,  if  he  takes  it  into  his  head  that  he  need  not  allow  himself  to  be  sold  and 
bought  in  the  market,  as  the  commodity  “ Labor,”  the  bourgeois  reason  comes 
to  a standstill.  Pie  cannot  comprehend  that  he  holds  any  other  relation  to  the 
operatives  than  that  of  purchase  and  sale;  he  sees  in  them,  not  human  beings  but 
hands,  as  he  constantly  calls  them  to  their  faces;  he  insists,  as  Carlyle  says,  that 
“ Cash  Payment  ” is  the  only  nexus  between  man  and  man.  Even  the  relation 
between  himself  and  his  wife  is,  in  nin^ty-nine  cases  out  of  a hundred,  mere 
“ Cash  Payment.”  Money  determines  the  worth  of  the  man;  he  is  “ worth  ten 
thousand  pounds.”  Pie  who  has  money  is  of  “the  better  sort  of  people;”  is 
“ influential,”  and  what  he  does  counts  for  something  in  his  social  circle.  The 
huckstering  spirit  penetrates  the  whole  language,  all  relalions  are  expressed  in 
business  terms,  in  economic  categories.  Supply  and  demand  are  the  formulas 
according  to  which  the  logic  of  the  English  bourgeois  judges  all  human  life. 
flence  free  competition  in  every  respect,  hence  the  regime  of  laissez-faire, 
laissez-aller  in  government,  in  medicine,  in  education,  and  soon  to  be  in 
religion,  too,  as  the  State  church  collapses  more  and  more.  Free  competition 
will  suffer  no  limitation,  no  State  supervision,  the  whole  State  is  but  a bürden 
to  it,  it  would  reach  its  highest  perfection  in  a wholly  ungoverned  anarchic 
Society,  where  each  might  exploit  the  other  to  his  heart’s  content.  Since,  how- 
ever,  the  bourgeoisie  cannot  dispense  with  government,  but  must  have  it  to  hold 
the  equally  indispensable  Proletariat  in  check,  it  turns  the  power  of  governmeiit 
against  the  Proletariat  and  keeps  out  of  its  way  as  far  as  possible, 

Let  no  one  believe,  however,  that  the  “ cultivated  ” Englishman  openly  brags- 
with  his  egotism.  On  the  contrary,  he  conceals  it  under  the  vilest  hypocrisy. 


i86 


What?  The  wealthy  English  fail  to  remember  the  poor?  They  who  have 
founded  philanthropic  institutions,  such  as  no  other  country  can  boast  of! 
Philanthropie  institutions  forsooth!  As  though  you  rendered  the  proletarians  a 
Service  in  first  sucking  out  their  very  life-blood  and  then  practicing  your  self- 
complacent,  pharisaic  philanthropy  upon  them,  placing  yourselves  before  the 
world  as  mighty  benefactors  of  humanity  when  you  give  back  to  the  plundered 
victims  the  hundredth  part  of  what  belongs  to  them!  Charity  which  degrades 
him  who  gives  more  than  him  who  takes;  charity  which  treads  the  down- 
trodden  still  deeper  in  the  dust,  which  demands  that  the  degraded,  the  Pariah 
cast  out  by  society,  shall  first  surrender  the  last  that  remains  to  him,  his  very 
Claim  to  manhood,  shall  first  beg  for  merey  before  your  merey  deigns  to  press, 
in  the  shape  of  an  alms,  the  brand  of  degradation  upon  his  brow.  But  let  us 
hear  the  English  bourgeoisie’s  own  words.  It  is  not  yet  a year  since  I read  in 
tue  Manchester  Guardian  the  following  letter  to  the  editor.  which  was  published 
without  comment  as  a perfectly  natural,  reasonable  thing: 

Mr.  Editor: 

For  some  time  past  our  main  streets  are  haunted  by  swarms  of 
beggars  who  try  to  awaken  the  pity  of  the  passers-by  in  a most  shameless  and 
annoying  manner,  by  exposing  their  tattered  clothing  and  sickly  aspect  of  dis- 
gusting  wounds  and  deformities.  I should  think  that  when  one  not  only  pays 
the  poor  rate,  but  also  contributes  largely  to  the  charitable  institutions,  one  had 
done  enough  to  earn  a right  to  be  spared  such  disagreeable  and  impertinent  mo- 
lestations.  And  why  eise  do  we  pay  such  high  rates  for  the  maintenance  of  the 
municipal  police,  if  they  do  not  even  protect  us  so  far  as  to  make  it  possible  to 
go  to  or  out  of  town  in  peace  ? I hope  the  publication  of  these  lines  in  your 
widely  circulated  paper  may  induce  the  authorities  to  remove  this  nuisance;  and 
1 remain,  Your  obedient  servant, 

A Lady. 

There  you  have  it!  The  English  bourgeoisie  is  charitable  out  of  self-interest, 
it  gives  nothing  outright,  but  regards  its  gifts  as  a Business  matter,  makes  a 
bargain  with  the  poor,  saying:  “ If  I spend  thus  much  upon  benevolent  institu- 
tions, I thereby  purchase  the  right  not  to  be  troubled  any  further,  and 
you  are  bound  thereby  to  stay  in  your  dusky  holes  and  not  to  irritate  my  tender 
nerves  by  exposing  your  misery.  You  shall  despair  as  before,  but  you  shall 
despair  unseen,  this  I require,  this  I purchase  with  my  subscription  of  twenty 
pounds  for  the  infirmary!”  It  is  infamous,  this  charity  of  a Christian  bourgeois! 
And  so  writes  “ A Lady;”  she  does  well  to  sign  herseif  such,  well  that  she  has 
lost  the  courage  to  call  herseif  a woman!  But  if  the  “ Ladies”  are  such  as  this, 
what  must  the  “ Gentlemen”  be?  It  will  be  said  that  this  is  a single  case;  but 
no,  the  foregoing  letter  expresses  the  temper  of  the  great  majority  of  the  English 
bourgeoisie,  or  the  editor  would  not  have  accepted  it,  and  some  reply  would 
have  been  made  to  it,  which  I watched  for  in  vain  in  the  succeeding  numbers. 
And  as  to  the  efhciency  of  this  philanthropy,  Canon  Parkinson  himself  says 
that  the  poor  are  relieved  much  more  by  the  poor  than  by  the  bourgeoisie;  and 
such  relief  given  by  an  honest  proletarian  who  knows  himself  what  it  is  to  be 
hungry,  for  whom  sharing  his  scanty  meal  is  really  a sacrifice,  but  a sacrifice 


borne  with  pleasure,  such  lielp  has  a wholly  different  ring  to  it  from  the  care- 
lessly  tossed  alms  of  the  luxurious  bourgeoisie. 

In  other  respects,  loo,  the  bourgeoisie  assumes  a hypocritical,  boundless 
philanthropy,  but  only  when  its  own  interests  rtquire  it;  as  in  its  Politics  and 
Political  Econ(*my.  It  has  been  at  work  now  well  on  towards  five  years  to 
prove  to  the  workingmen  that  it  strives  to  abolish  the  Corn  Laws  solely  in  their 
interest.  But  the  long  and  short  of  the  matter  is  this:  the  Corn  Laws  keep  the 
price  of  bread  higher  than  in  other  countries  and  thus  raise  wages;  but  these 
high  wages  render  difhcult  competition  of  the  manufacturers  against  other 
nations  in  which  bread  and  consequently  wages  are  cheaper.  The  Corn  Laws 
being  repealed  the  price  of  bread  falls,  and  wages  gradually  approach  those  of 
other  European  countries,  as  must  be  clear  to  every  one  from  our  previous  ex- 
position  of  the  principles  according  to  which  wages  are  determined.  The 
maiiufacturer  can  compete  more  readily,  the  demand  for  English  goods  increases 
and,  with  it,  the  demand  for  labor.  In  consequence  of  this  increased  demand 
wages  would  actually  rise  somewhat,  and  the  unemployed  woikers  be  re- 
employed;  but  for  how  long?  The  “ surplus  populaiion”  of  England,  and 
especially  of  Ireland,  is  sufhcient  to  supply  English  manufacture  with  the  neces- 
sary  operatives  even  if  it  were  doubled;  and,  in  a few  years,  the  small  advantage 
of  the  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws  would  be  balanced,  a new  crisis  would  follow, 
and  we  should  be  back  at  the  point  from  which  we  started,  while  the  first 
Stimulus  to  manufacture  would  have  increased  population  meanwhile.  All  this 
the  proletarians  understand  very  well,  and  have  told  the  manufacturers  to  their 
faces;  but,  in  spite  of  that,  the  manufacturers  have  in  view  solely  the  immediate 
advantage  which  the  Corn  Laws  would  bring  them.  They  are  too  narrow- 
minded  to  see  that,  even  for  themselves,  no  permanent  advantage  can  arise  from 
this  measure,  because  their  competition  with  each  other  would  soon  force  the 
profit  of  the  individual  back  to  its  old  level;  and  thus  they  continue  to  shriek  to 
the  workingmen  that  it  is  purely  for  the  sake  of  the  starving  millions  that  the 
rieh  members  of  the  Liberal  party  pour  hundreds  and  thousands  of  pounds  into 
the  treasury  of  the  Anti-Corn  Law  League,  while  every  one  knows  that  they  are 
only  sending  the  butter  after  the  cheese,  that  they  calculate  upon  earning  it  all 
back  in  the  first  ten  years  after  the  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws.  But  the  workers 
are  no  longer  to  be  misled  by  the  bourgeoisie,  especially  since  the  insurrection 
of  1842.  They  demand  of  every  one  who  presents  himself  as  intcrested  in 
their  welfare,  that  he  should  declare  himself  in  favor  of  the  People’s  Charter  as 
proof  of  the  sincerity  of  his  professions,  and  in  so  doing,  they  protest  against  all 
outside  help,  for  the  Charter  is  a demand  for  the  pouer  to  help  themselves, 
Whoever  declines  so  to  declare  himself  they  pronounce  their  enemy,  and  are 
perfectly  right  in  so  doing,  whether  he  be  a declared  foe  or  a false  friend.  Be- 
sides,  the  Anti-Corn  Law  League  has  used  the  most  despicable  falsehoods  and 
tricks  to  win  the  support  of  the  workers.  It  has  tried  to  prove  to  them  that  the 
money  price  of  labor  is  in  inverse  proportion  to  its  price  in  grain;  that  wages 
are  high  when  grain  is  cheap,  and  vice  versa,  an  assertion  which  it  pretends  to 


iS8 


prove  with  the  most  ridiculous  arguments,  and  one  which  is,  in  itself,  more 
ridiculous  than  any  other  that  has  proceeded  from  Ihe  mouth  of  an  Economist. 
When  this  failed  to  help  matters,  the  workers  were  promised  bliss  supreme  in 
consequence  of  the  increased  demand  in  the  labor  market;  indeed,  men  went  so 
far  as  to  carry  through  the  streets  two  models  of  loaves  of  bread,  on  one  of 
which  by  far  the  larger,  was  written:  “ American  Eightpenny  Loaf,  Wages  Four 
Shillings  per  Day,”  and  upon  the  much  smaller  one:  “ English  Eightpenny 
Loaf,  Wages  Two  Shillings  a Day.’*  But  the  workers  have  not  allowed  them- 
selves  to  be  misled.  They  know  their  lords  and  masters  too  well. 

But  rjghtly  to  measure  the  hypocrisy  of  these  promises,  the  practice  of  the 
bourgeiosie  must  be  taken  into  account.  We  have  seen  in  the  course  of  our 
report  how  the  bourgeoisie  exploits  the  Proletariat  in  every  conceivable  way,  for 
its  own  beneht!  We  have,  however,  hitherto  seen  only  how  the  single  bourgeois 
maltreats  the  Proletariat  upon  his  own  account.  Let  us  turn  now  to  the  man- 
ner  in  which  the  bourgeoisie  as  a party,  as  the  power  of  the  State,  con-’ 
ducts  itself  towards  the  Proletariat.  Laws  are  necessary  only  because  there  are 
persons  in  existence  who  own  nothing;  and  allhough  this  is  directly  expressed  in 
but  few  laws,  as  for  instance  those  against  vagabonds,  and  tramps,  in  which  the 
Proletariat  as  such  is  outlawed,  yet  enmity  to  the  Proletariat  is  so  emphatically 
the  basis  of  the  law  that  the  judges,  and  especially  the  Justices  of  the  Peace  who 
are  bourgeois  themselves  and  with  whom  the  Proletariat  comes  most  in  contact, 
find  this  meaning  in  the  laws  without  further  consideration.  If  a rieh  man  is 
brought  up,  or  rather  summoned  to  appear  before  the  court,  the  judge  regrets 
that  he  is  obliged  to  impose  so  much  trouble,  treats  the  matter  as  favorably  as 
possible  and,  if  he  is  forced  to  condemn  theaccused,  does  so  with  extreme  regret, 
etc.,  etc.,  and  the  end  of  it  all  is  a miserable  fine  which  the  bourgeois  throws 
upon  the  table  with  contempt  and  then  departs.  But  if  a poor  devil  gets  into 
such  a Position  as  involves  appearing  before  the  Justice  of  the  Peace,  he  has 
almost  always  spent  the  night  in  the  station-house,  with  a crowd  of  his  peers,  is 
regarded  from  the  beginning  as  guilty;  his  defense  is  set  aside  with  a contemp- 
tuous  “ Oh!  we  know  the  excuses,”  and  a fine  imposed  which  he  cannot  pay  and 
must  Work  out  with  several  months  on  the  treadmill.  And  if  nothing  can  bc 
proved  against  him,  he  is  sent  to  the  treadmill,  none  the  less,  “as  a rogue  and  a 
vagabond.”  The  partisanship  of  the  Justices  of  the  Peace,  especially  in  the  coun-- 
try,  surpasses  all  description,  and  it  is  so  much  the  Order  of  the  day  that  all  cases 
which  are  not  too  utterly  flagrant  are  quietly  reported  by  the  newspapers,  with- 
out comment.  Nor  is  any  thing  eise  to  be  expected.  For  on  the  one  hand, 
these  Dogberries  do  merely  construe  the  lawaccording  to  the  intent  of  the  framers 
and,  on  the  other,  they  are,  themselves  bourgeois  who  see  the  foundation  of  all 
tnie  Order  in  the  interests  of  their  dass.  And  the  conduct  of  the  police  cor- 
responds  to  that  of  the  Justices  of  the  Peace.  The  bourgeois  may  do  what  he 
will  and  the  policeman  remains  ever  polite,  adhering  strictly  to  the  law,  but  the 
proletarian  is  roughly,  brutally  treated;  his  poverty  both  casts  the  suspicion  of 
every  sort  of  crime  upon  him  and  cuts  him  off  from  legal  redress  against  any 


caprice  of  the  ädministrators  of  the  law;  for  him,  therefore,  the  protecting’  forms 
of  the  law  do  not  exist,  the  police  force  their  way  into  his  house  without  furthei 
ceremony,  arrest  and  abuse  him;  and  only  when  a workingmen’s  association,  such 
as  the  miners,  engages  a Roberts,  does  it  become  evident  how  little  the  protec- 
tive  side  of  the  law  exists  for  the  workingmen,  how  frequently  he  has  to  bear  all 
the  burdens  of  the  law  without  enjoying  its  benefits. 

Down  to  the  present  hour,  the  property-holding  dass  in  Parliament  still 
struggles  against  the  better  feeling  of  those  not  yet  fallen  a prey  to  egotism,  and 
seeks  to  subjugate  the  Proletariat  still  further.  One  piece  of  common  land  after 
another  is  appropriated  and  placed  under  cultivation,  a process  by  which  the 
general  cultivation  is  furthered  but  the  Proletariat  greatly  injured.  Where  there 
were  still  commons  the  poor  could  pasture  an  ass,  a pig  or  geese,  the  children 
and  young  people  had  a place  where  they  could  play  and  live  out  of  doors;  but 
this  is  gradually  coming  to  an  end.  The  earnings  of  the  worker  are  less  and  the 
young  people,  deprived  of  their  playground,  go  to  the  beer  shops.  A mass  of  acts 
for  enclosing  and  cultivating  commons  is  passed  at  every  session  of  Parliament. 
When  the  Government  determined  during  the  session  of  1844  to  force  the  all 
monopolizing  railways  to  make  travelling  possible  for  the  workers  by  means  of 
charges  proportionate  to  their  means,  a penny  a mile,  and  proposed  therefore  to 
introduce  such  a third  dass  train  upon  every  railway  daily,  the  “Reverend 
Father  in  God,”  the  Bishop  of  London,  proposed  that  Sunday,  the  only  day  upon 
which  workingmen  inwork  can  travel,  be  exempted  from  this  rule,  and  travelling 
thus  be  left  open  to  the  rieh  but  shut  off  from  the  poor.  This  proposition  was, 
however,  too  direct,  too  undisguised  to  pass  through  Parliament,  and  was  drop- 
ped.  I have  no  room  to  enumerate  the  many  concealed  attacks  of  even  one 
single  session  upon  the  Proletariat.  One  from  the  session  of  1844  niust  sufflce. 
An  obscure  member  of  Parliament,  a Mr.  Miles,  proposed  a bill  regulating  the 
relation  of  master  and  servant  which  seemed  comparatively  unobjectionable.  The 
Government  became  interested  in  the  bill  and  it  was  referred  to  a Committee. 
Meaiiwhile  the  strike  among  the  miners  in  the  North  broke  out,  and  Roberts 
made  his  triumphal  passage  through  England  Vv^ith  his  acquitted  workingmen. 
When  the  bill  was  reported  by  the  committee,  it  was  discovered  that  certain  most 
despotic  provisions  had  been  interpolated  in  it,  especially  one  conferring  upon  the 
employer  the  power  to  bring  before  any  Justice  of  the  Peace  every  workingman 
who  had  contracted  verbally  or  in  writing  to  do  any  work  whatsoever,  in  case  of 
refusal  to  work  or  other  misbehavior,  and  have  him  condemned  to  prison  with 
hard  labor  for  two  months  upon  the  oath  of  the  employer  or  his  agent  or  over- 
looker,  i,  e, , upon  the  oath  of  the  accuser.  This  bill  aroused  the  workingmen  to 
the  utmost  fury,  the  more  so  as  the  Ten  Hours’  Bill  was  before  Parliament  at  the 
same  time  and  had  called  forth  a considerable  agitation.  Hundreds  of  meetings 
were  held,  hundreds  of  workingmen’s  petitions  forwarded  to  London  to  Thomas 
Duncombe.  the  representative  of  the  interests  of  the  Proletariat,  This  man  was, 
except  Ferrand,  the  representative  of  “Young  England,”  the  only  vigorous  Op- 
ponent of  the  bill;  but  when  the  other  Radicals  sawthat  the  people  were  declar- 


igo 


ing  against  it,  one  after  the  other  crept  forward  and  took  his  place  by  Dun- 
combe’s  side;  and  as  the  Liberal  bourgeoisie  had  not  the  courage  to  defend  the 
bill  in  the  face  of  the  excitement  among  the  workir.gmen,  it  was  ignominously 
lost. 

Meanwhile  the  most  open  declaration  of  war  of  the  bourgeoisie  upon  the  Pro- 
letariat is  Malthus’  Law  of  Population  and  the  New  Poor  I^aw  framed  in  accor- 
dance  with  it.  We  have  already  alluded  several  times  to  the  theory  of  Malthus. 
We  may  sum  up  its  final  result  in  these  few  words  that  the  earth  is  perennially 
overpopulated.whence  poverty,  misery, distress  and  immorality  must  prevail;  that 
it  is  the  lot,  the  eternal  desti  y of  mankind,  to  exist  in  too  great  numbers  and 
therefore  in  diverse  classes,  of  which  some  are  rieh,  educated  and  moral,  and  others 
more  or  less  poor,  distressed,  ignorant  and  immoral.  Hence  it  follows  in  prac- 
tice,  and  Malthus  himself  drew  this  conclusion,  that  charities  and  poor  rates  are, 
properly  speaking,  nonsense,  since  they  serve  only  to  maintain  and  stimulate  the 
increase  of  the  surplus  population  whose  competition  crushes  down  wages  for  the 
employed;  that  the  employment  of  the  poor  by  the  Poor  Law  Guardians  is  equally 
unreasonable  since  only  a fixed  quantity  of  the  products  of  labor  can  be  con- 
sumed,  and  for  every  unemployed  laborer  thus  furnished  employment  another 
hitherto  employed,  must  be  driven  into  enforced  idleness  whence  private  under- 
takings  suffer  at  cost  of  Poor  Law  industry;  that,  in  other  words,  the  whole  prob- 
lem  is  not  howto  support  the  surplus  population,  but  how  to  restrain  it  as  far  as 
possible.  Malthus  declares  in  plain  English  that  the  right  to  live,  a right  pre- 
viously  asserted  in  favor  of  every  man  in  the  world,  is  nonsense.  He  quotes  the 
words  of  a poet,  that  the  poor  man  comes  to  the  feast  of  Nature  and  finds  no 
cover  laid  for  him,  and  adds  that  “she  bids  him  begone,”  for  he  did  not  before 
his  birth  ask  of  society  whether  or  not  he  is  welcome.  This  is  now  the  pet  theory 
of  all  genuine  English  bourgeois,  and  very  naturally,  since  it  is  the  most  specious 
excuse  for  them,  and  has  moreover  a good  deal  of  truth  in  it  under  existing  con- 
ditions.  If  then  the  problem  is  not  to  make  the  “surplus  population  ” useful,  to 
transform  it  into  available  population  but  merely  to  let  it  starve  to  death  in 
the  least  objectionable  way  and  to  prevent  its  having  too  many  children,  this 
of  course,  is  simple  enough,  providcd  the  surplus  population  perceives  its  own 
superlluousness  and  takes  kindly  to  starvation.  There  is,  however,  in  spite  of 
the  violent  exertions  of  the  humane  bourgeoisie,  no  immediate  prospect  of  its  suc- 
ceeding  in  bringing  about  such  a disposition  among  the  workers.  The  workers 
have  taken  it  into  their  heads  that  they,  with  their  busy  hands,  are  the  necessary, 
and  the  rieh  capitalists,  who  do  nothing,  the  surplus  population. 

Since,  however,  the  rieh  hold  all  the  power,  the  proletarians  must  submit,  if 
they  will  not  good-temperedly  perceive  it  for  themselves,  to  have  the  law  actually 
declare  them  superfluous»  This  has  been  done  by  the  New  Poor  Law.  The 
Old  Poor  Law  which  rested  upon  the  Act  of  i6oi,  (the  436.  of  Elizabeth),  naively 
Started  from  the  notion  that  it  is  the  duty  of  the  parish  to  provide  for  the  main- 
tenance  of  the  poor.  Whoever  had  no  work  received  relief,  and  the  poor  man 
regarded  the  parish  as  pledged  to  protect  him  from  starvation.  He  demanded  his 


weekly  relief  as  his  right,  not  as  a favor,  and  this  became,  at  last,  too  much  for 
the  büurgeoisie.  In  1833,  when  the  bourgeoisie  liad  just  come  into  power  through 
the  Reform  Bill,  and  pauperism  in  the  country  districts  had  just  reached  its  full  de- 
velopment, the  bourgeoisie  began  the  reform  of  the  Poor  Law  according  to  its  own 
point  of  view.  A commission  was  appointed,  which  investigated  the  administration 
of  the  Poor  Laws,  and  revealed  a multitude  of  abuses.  It  was  discovered  that  the 
whole  working  dass  in  the  country  was  pauperized  and  more  or  less  dependent 
upon  the  rates  from  which  they  receive  relief  when  wages  were  low;  it  was  found 
that  this  System  by  which  the  unemployed  were  maintained,  the  ill-paid  and  the 
parents  of  large  families  relieved,  fathers  of  illegitimate  children  required  to  pay 
alimony  and  poverty,  in  general,  recognized  as  needing  protection — it  was  found 
that  this  System  was  ruining  the  nation,  was. 

“ A check  upon  industry,  a reward  for  improvident  marriage,  a Stimulus  to  in- 
creased  population  and  a means  of  counterbalancing  the  effect  of  an  increased 
population  upon  wages;  a national  provision  for  discouraging  the  honest  and  in- 
dustrious,  and  protecting  the  lazy,  vicious  and  improvident;  calculated  to  destroy 
the  bonds  of  family  life,  hinder  systemactically  the  accumulation  of  Capital,  scat- 
ter  that  which  is  already  accumulated  and  ruin  the  taxpayers.  Moreover,  in  the 
Provision  of  aliment,  it  sets  a premium  upon  illegitimate  children.” 

( Words  of  the  Report  of  the  Poor  Law  Commissioner).  ^ This  description  of 
the  action  of  the  Old  Poor  Law  is  certainly  correct;  relief  fosters  laziness  and  in- 
crease  of  “ surplus  population.”  Under  present  social  conditions  it  is  perfectly 
clear  that  the  poor  man  is  compelled  to  be  an  egotist,  and  when  he  can  choose, 
living  equally  well  in  either  case,  he  prefers  doing  nothing  to  working.  But  what 
follows  therefrom?  That  our  present  social  conditions  are  good  for  nothing,  and 
not  as  the  Malthusian  Commissioners  conclude,  that  poverty  is  a crime  and  as 
such  to  be  visited  with  heinous  penalties  which  may  serve  as  awarning  to  others. 

But  these  wise  Malthusians  were  so  thoroughly  convinced  of  the  infallibility  of 
their  theory  that  they  did  not  for  one  moment  hesitate  to  cast  the  poor  into  the 
Procrusiean  bed  of  their  economic  notions  and  treat  them  with  the  most  revolting 
cruelty.  Convinced  with  Malthus  and  the  rest  of  the  adherents  of  free  competi- 
tion  that  it  is  best  to  let  each  one  take  care  of  himself,  they  would  have  preferred 
to  abolish  the  Poor  Laws  altogether.  Since,  however,  they  had  neither  the  cour- 
age  nor  the  authority  to  do  this,  they  proposed  a Poor  Law  constructed  as  far  as 
possible  in  harmony  with  the  doctrine  of  Malthus,  which  is  yet  more  barbarous 
than  that  of  laissez-faire,  because  it  interferes  actively  in  cases  in  which  the  latter 
is  passive.  We  have  seen  how  Malthus  characterizes  poverty  or  rather  the  want  of 
employment,  as  a crime  under  the  title  “ superfluity,”  and  recommends  for  it  pun 
ishment  by  starvation.  The  commissioners  were  not  quite  so  barbarous ; death  out- 
right  by  starvation  was  something  too  terrible  even  for  a Poor  Law  Commissioner. 
“ Good,”  said  they,  “ we  grant  you  poor  a right  to  exist,  but  only  to  exist;  the 
right  to  multiply  you  have  not,  nor  the  right  to  exist  as  betits  human  beings. 
You  are  a pest,  and  if  wecannot  get  rid  of  you  as  we  do  of  other  pests,  you  shall 

I.  Extracts  from  Information  received  from  the  Poor  Law  Commissioners.  Published  by 
authoriiy.  London,  1833. 


192 


feel,  at  least,  that  you  are  a pest,  and  you  shall  at  least  be  held  in  check,  kept 
from  bringing-  into  theworld  other  “surplus”  either  directly  or  through  inducing 
in  others  laziness  and  want  of  employment.  Live  you  shall,  but  live  as  an  awful 
warning  to  all  those  who  might  have  inducements  to  become  “ superfluous.” 

They  accordingly  brought  in  the  New  Poor  Law,  which  was  passed  by  Parlia- 
I ment  in  1834,  and  continues  in  force  down  to  the  present  day.  All  relief  in  money 
f and  provisions  was  abolished;  the  only  relief  allowed  was  admission  to  the  work- 
houses  immediately  built.  The  regulations  for  these  workhouses,  or  as  the  people 
I call  them,  Poor  Law  Bastilles,  is  such  as  to  frighten  away  every  one  who  has  the 
||  slightest  prospect  of  life  without  tliis  form  of  public  charity.  To  make  sure  that 
relief  be  applied  for  only  in  the  most  extreme  cases  and  after  every  other  effort 
had  failed,  the  workhouse  has  been  made  the  most  repulsive  residence  which  the 
refined  ingenuityof  a Maltliusian  can  invent.  The  food  is  worse  than  that  of  the 
most  ill-paid  workingman  while  employed,  and  the  work  harder,  or  they  might 
prefer  the  workhouse  to  their  wretched  existence  outside.  Meat,  especially  fresh 
meat,  is  rarely  furnished,  chicfly  potatoes,  the  worst  possible  bread  and  oat-meal 
porridge,  little  or  no  beer.  The  food  of  criminal  prisoners  is  better,  as  a rule,  so 
that  the  paupers  frequentiy  commit  some  off.ense  for  the  purpose  of  getting  into 
jail.  For  the  workhouse  is  a jail,  too;  he  who  does  not  finish  his  task  gets  nothing 
to  eat;  he  who  wishes  to  go  out  must  ask  permission,  which  is  granted  or  not, 
according  to  his  behavior  or  the  inspector’s  whim;  tobacco  is  forbidden,  also  the 
receipt  of  gifts  from  relatives  or  friends  outside  the  house;  the  paupers  wear  a 
workhouse  uniform,  and  are  handed  over  helpless  and  without  redress,  to  the 
caprice  of  the  inspectors.  To  prevent  their  labor  from  competing  with  that  of 
outside  concerns,  they  are  set  to  rather  useless  tasks;  the  men  break  stones 
“as  much  as  a strong  man  can  accomplish  with  effort  in  a day;”  the  women, 
children  and  aged  men  pick  oakum,  for  I know  not  what  insignificant  use.  To 
prevent  the  “superfluous”  from  multiplying  and  “ demoralized  ” parents  from 
influencing  their  children,  families  are  broken  up;  the  husband  is  placed  in  one 
wing,  the  wife  in  another,  the  children  in  a third,  and  they  are  permitted  to  see 
one  another  only  at  stated  times  after  long  intervals,  and  then  only  when  they 
have,  in  the  opinion  of  the  officials,  behaved  well.  And  in  Order  to  shut  off  the 
external  world  from  contamination  by  pauperism  within  these  bastilles,  the  in- 
mates  are  permitted  to  receive  visits  only  with  the  consent  of  the  officials,  and  in 
the  reception  rooms,  to  communicate  in  general  with  the  world  outside  only  by 
leave  and  under  supervision. 

Yet  the  food  is  supposed  to  be  wholesome  and  the  treatment  humane  with  all 
, this.  But  the  intent  of  the  law  is  too  loudly  outspoken  for  this  requirement  to  be 
in  any  wise  fulfilled.  The  Poor  Law  Commissioners  and  the  whole  English  bour- 
geoisie  deceive  themselves  if  they  believe  the  administration  of  the  law  possible 
without  these  results.  The  treatment,  which  the  letter  of  the  law  prescribes,  is  in 
direct  contradiction  of  its  spirit.  If  the  law  in  its  essence  proclaims  the  poor  crimi- 
nals,  the  workhouses,  prisons,  their  inmates  beyond  the  pale  of  the  law,  beyond  the 
pale  of  humanity,  objects  of  disgust  and  repulsion,  all  commands  to  the  contrary 


rire  unavailing.  In  practise,  the  spirit  and  not  the  letter  of  the  läw  is  followed 
in  the  treatment  of  the  poor,  as  in  the  following  few  examples: 

In  the  workhouse  at  Greenwich,  in  the  suminer  of  1843,  a boy  five  years  old 
was  punished  by  being  shut  into  the  dead-room,  where  he  had  to  sleep  upon  the 
lids  of  the  coffins.  In  the  workhouse  at  Herne,  the  same  punishment  was  in- 
flicted  upon  a little  girl  for  wetting  the  bed  at  night,  and  this  method  of  punish- 
ment seems  to  be  a favorite  one.  This  workhouse,  which  Stands  in  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  regions  of  Kent,  is  peculiar  in  so  far  as  its  Windows  open  only  up- 
on the  court,  and  but  two,  newly  introduced,  afford  the  inmates  a glimpse  of  the 
outer  World.  The  author  who  relates  this  in  the  Illuinmated  Magazine^  closes 
his  description  with  the  words:  “If  God  punished  men  for  crimes  as  man  pun- 
ishes  man  for  poverty,  than  woe  to  the  sons  of  Adam!” 

In  November,  1843,  a man  died  at  Leicester,  who  had  been  dismissed  two 
days  before  from  the  workhouse  at  Coventry.  The  details  of  the  treatment  of 
the  poor-  in  this  institution  are  revolting.  The  man,  George  Robson,  had  a 
wound  upon  the  shoulder,  the  treatment  of  which  was  wholly  neglected;  he  was 
set  to  work  at  the  pump,  using  the  sound  arm;  was  given  only  the  usual  work- 
house fare,  which  he  was  utterly  unable  to  digest  by  reason  of  the  unhealed 
wound  and  his  general  debility;  he  naturally  grew  w’eaker,  and  the  more  he  com- 
plained,  the  more  brutally  he  was  treated.  When  his  wife  tried  to  bring  him 
her  drop  of  beer,  she  was  reprimanded  and  forced  to  drink  it  herseif  in  the 
presence  of  the  female  warder.  He  became  ill,  but  received  no  better  treat- 
ment. Finally,  at  his  own  request,  and  under  the  most  insulting  epithets,  he 
was  discharged,  accompanied  by  his  wife.  Two  days  later  he  died  at  Leicester, 
in  consequence  of  the  neglected  wound  and  of  the  food  given  him,  which  was 
utterly  indigestible  for  one  in  his  condition,  as  the  surgeon  present  at  the 
inquest  testified.  When  he  was  discharged,  there  were  handed  to  him  letters 
containing  money,  which  had  been  kept  back  six  weeks  and  opened,  according 
to  a rule  of  the  establishment,  by  the  inspector!  In  Birmingham  such  scandal- 
ous  occurrences  took  place,  that  finally,  in  1843,  an  official  was  sent  to  investi- 
gate  the  case.  He  found  that  four  tramps  had  been  shut  up  naked  under  a 
stair-case  in  a black  hole,  eight  to  ten  days,  often  deprived  of  food  until  noon, 
and  that  at  the  severest  season  of  the  year.  A little  boy  had  been  passed 
through  all  grades  of  punishment  known  to  the  institution,  first  locked  up  in  a 
damp,  vaulted,  narrow,  lumber-room;  then  in  the  dog-hole  twice,  the  second 
time  three  days  and  three  nights;  then  the  same  length  of  time  in  the  old  dog 
hole,  which  was  still  worse;  then  the  tramp-room,  a stinking,  disgustingly,  filthy 
hole,  with  wooden  sleeping  stalls,  where  the  official,  in  the  course  of 
his  inspection,  found  two  other  tattered  boys,  shrivelled  with  cold,  who  had 
■ ^ been  spending  three  days  there.  In  the  dog-hole  Ihere  were  often  seven,  and 
in  the  tramp-room  twenty  men  huddled  together.  Women,  also,  were  placed  in 
the  dog-hole  because  they  refused  to  go  to  church,  and  one  was  shut  four  days 
into  the  tramp-room,  with  God  knows  what  sort  of  Company,  and  that  while  she 
was  ill  and  receiving  medicine!  Another  woman  was  placed  in  the  insane 


194 


department  for  punishment,  though  she  was  perfectly  sane.  In  the  ’workhouse 
at  Bacton,  in  Suffolk,  in  January,  1844,  a sirnilar  Investigation  revealed  the  fact 
that  a feeble-minded  woman  was  employed  as  nurse  and  took  care  of  the 
patients  accordingly,  while  sufferers  who  were  often  restless  at  night,  or  tried  to 
get  up,  were  tied  fast  with  cords  passed  over  the  covering  and  under  the  bed- 
stead  to  save  the  nurses  the  trouble  of  sitting  up  at  night.  One  patient  was 
found  dead,  bound  in  this  way.  In  the  St.  Pancras  workhouse  in  London 
(where  the  cheap  shirts  already  mentioned  are  made),  an  epileptic  died  of  suf- 
focation  during  an  attack  in  bed,  no  one  coming  to  his  reüef;  in  the  same 
house  four  to  six,  sometimes  eight  children,  slept  in  one  bed.  In  Shoreditch 
workhouse,  a man  was  placed  together  with  a fever  patient  violently  ill,  in  a 
bed  teeming  with  vermin.  In  Bethnal  Green  workhouse,  London,  a woman  in 
the  sixth  month  of  pregnancy  was  shut  up  in  the  reception-room  with  her  two- 
year-old  child,  from  Febuary  28th  to  March  2oth,  without  being  admitted  into 
the  workhouse  itself,  and  without  a trace  of  a bed  or  the  means  of  satisfying  the 
most  natural  wants.  Her  husband,  who  was  brought  into  the  workhouse, 
begged  to  have  his  wife  released  from  this  imprisonment,  whereupon  he  received 
twenty-four  hours  imprisonment  with  bread  and  water  as  the  penalty  of  his 
insolence.  In  the  workhouse  at  Slough,  near  Windsor,  a man  lay  dying  in 
September,  1844.  His  wife  journeyed  to  him,  arriving  at  midnight,  and  hasten- 
ing  to  the  workhouse,  was  refused  admission;  she  was  not  permitted  to  see  her 
husband  until  the  next  morning,  and  then  only  in  the  presence  of  a female 
warder,  who  forced  herseif  upon  the  wife  at  every  succeeding  visit,  sending  her 
away  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour.  In  the  workhouse  at  Middleton,  in  Lanca- 
shire,  twelve  and  at  times  eighteen  paupers,  of  both  sexes,  slept  in  one  room. 
This  institution  is  not  embraced  by  the  New  Poor  Law,  but  is  administered 
under  an  old  special  act  (Gilbert’s  Act.)  The  inspector  had  instituted  a 
brewery  in  the  house  for  his  own  benefit.  In  Stockport,  July  3 ist,  1844,  ^ 
seventy-two  years  old,  was  brought  before  the  Justice  of  the  Peace  for  refusing 
to  break  stones,  and  insisting  that  by  reason  of  his  age  and  a stiflf  knee,  he  was 
unfit  for  this  work.  In  vain  did  he  offer  to  undertake  any  work  adapted  to  his 
physical  strength;  he  was  sentenced  to  two  weeks  upon  the  treadmill.  In  the 
workhouse  at  Basford,  an  inspecting  ofiicial  found  that  the  sheets  had  not  been 
changed  in  thirteen  weeks,  shirts  in  four  weeks,  stockings  in  two  to  ten  months, 
so  that  of  forty-five  boys  but  three  had  stockings,  and  all  their  shirts  were  in 
tatters.  The  beds  swarmed  with  vermin,  and  the  tableware  was  washed  in  the 
slop-pails.  In  the  West  of  London  workhouse,  a porter  who  had  infected  four 
girls  with  Syphilis  was  not  discharged,  and  another  who  had  concealed  a deaf 
and  dumb  girl  four  days  and  nights  in  his  bed  was  also  retained. 

As  in  life,  so  in  death.  The  poor  are  dumped  into  the  earth  like  infected 
cattle.  The  pauper  burial  ground  of  St.  Brides,  London,  is  a bare  morass  in 
use  as  a cemetery  since  the  time  of  Charles  II.,  and  filled  with  heaps  of  bones; 
every  Wednesday  the  paupers  are  thrown  into  a ditch  fourteen  feet  deep,  a 
curate  rattles  through  the  Litany  at  the  top  of  his  speed;  the  ditch  is  loosely 


195 


covered  in,  to  be  re-opened  the  next  Wednesday,  and  filled  with  corpses  as  long 
as  one  more  can  be  forced  in.  The  putrefaction  thus  engendered  contaminatcs 
the  whole  neighborhood.  In  Manchester,  the  panper  burial  ground  lies  opposite 
to  the  Old  Town,  along  the  Irk;  this,  too,  is  a rough,  desolate  place.  About 
two  years  ago,  a railroad  was  carried  through  it.  If  it  had  been  a respectable 
cemetery,  how  the  bourgeoisie  and  the  clergy  would  have  shrieked  over  the 
desecration!  But  it  was  a pauper  burial  ground,  the  resting-place  of  the  outcast 
and  superfluous,  so  no  one  concerned  himself  about  the  matten  It  was  not 
even  thought  worth  while  to  convey  the  partially  decayed  bodies  to  the  other 
side  of  the  cemetery;  they  were  heaped  up  just  as  it  happened,  and  piles  were 
driven  into  newly-made  graves,  so  that  the  water  oozed  out  of  the  swampy 
ground,  pregnant  with  putrifying  matter,  and  filled  the  neighborhood  with  the 
most  revolting  and  injurious  gases.  The  disgusting  brutality  which  accom- 
panied  this  work  I cannot  describe  in  further  detail. 

Can  any  one  wonder  that  the  poor  decline  to  accept  public  relief  under  these 
conditions?  That  they  starve  rather  than  enter  these  bastilles?  I have  the 
reports  of  five  cases  in  which  persons  actually  starving,  when  the  guardians 
refused  them  outdoor  relief,  went  back  to  their  miserable  homes  and  died  of 
starvation  rather  than  enter  these  hells.  Tnus  far  have  the  Poor  Law  Com- 
missioners  attained  their  object.  At  the  same  time,  however,  the  workhouses 
have  intensified  more  than  any  other  measure  of  the  party  in  power  the  hatred 
of  the  working  dass  against  the  property  holders,  who  very  generally  admire  the 
New  Poor  Law. 

From  Newcastle  to  Dover,  there  is  but  one  voice  among  the  workers, 
the  voice  of  hatred  against  the  new  law.  The  bourgeoisie  has  formulated  so 
clearly  in  this  law,  its  conception  of  its  duties  towards  the  Proletariat,  that  it 
has  been  appreciated  even  by  the  dullest.  So  frankly,  so  boldly  had  the  con- 
ception never  yet  been  formulated,  that  the  non-possessing  dass  exists  solely 
for  the  purpose  of  being  exploited  and  of  starving  when  the  property  holders 
can  no  longer  make  use  of  it.  Hence  it  is  that  this  New  Poor  Law  has  con- 
tributed  so  greatly  to  accelerate  the  labor  movement,  and  especially  to  spread 
Chartism;  and,  as  it  is  carried  out  most  extensively  in  the  country,  it  facilitates 
the  development  of  the  proletarian  movement  which  is  arising  in  the  agricultural 
districts. 

Let  me  add  that  a similar  law  in  force  in  Ireland  since  1838,  affords  a 
similar  refuge  for  eighty  thousand  paupers.  Here,  too,  it  has  made  itself  dis- 
liked,  and  would  have  been  intensely  hated  if  it  had  attained  anylhing  like  the 
same  importance  as  in  England.  But  what  difference  does  the  ill-treatment  of 
eighty  thousand  proletarians  make  in  a country  in  which  there  are  two  and  a 
half  millions  of  them  ? In  Scotland  there  are,  with  local  exceptions,  no  Poor 
Laws* 

I hope  that  after  this  picture  of  the  New  Poor  Law  and  its  results,  no  word 
which  I have  said  of  the  English  bourgeoisie  will  be  thought  too  Stern.  In  this 
public  measure,  in  which  it  acts  in  corpore^  as  the  ruling  power,  it  formulates  its 


196 


real  intentions,  reveals  the  animus  of  those  smaller  transactions  witli  the  Prole- 
tariat, of  which  the  blame  apparently  attaches  to  individuals.  And  that  this 
measure  did  not  originate  with  any  one  section  of  the  bourgeoisie,  but  enjoys 
the  approval  of  the  whole  dass,  is  proved  by  the  Parliamentary  debates  of  1844. 
The  Liberal  party  had  enacted  the  New  Poor  Law;  the  Conservative  party, 
with  its  Prime  Minister  Peel  at  the  head,  defends  it,  and  only  alters  some  petty- 
fogging  trifles  in  the  Poor  Law  Amendment  Bill  of  1844.  A Liberal  majority 
carried  the  bill,  a Conservative  majority  approved  it,  and  the  “ Noble  Lords” 
gave  their  consent  each  time.  Thus  is  the  expulsion  of  the  Proletariat  from 
state  and  society  outspoken,  thus  is  it  publicly  proclaimed  that  proletarians  are 
not  human  beings,  and  do  not  deserve  to  be  treated  as  such.  Let  us  leave  it  to 
the  proletarians  of  the  British  Empire  to  re-conquer  their  human  rights.  ^ 

Such  is  the  state  of  the  British  working  dass  as  I have  come  to  know  it  in 
the  course  of  twenty-one  months,  through  the  medium  of  my  own4feyes,  and 
through  official  and  other  trustworthy  reports.  And  when  1 call  this  condition, 
as  I have  frequently  enough  done  in  the  foregoing  pages,  an  utterly  unbearable 
one,  I am  not  alone  in  so  doing.  As  early  as  1833,  Gaskell  declared  that  he 
despaired  of  a peaceful  issue,  and  that  a revolution  can  hardly  fail  to  follow. 
In  1838,  Carlyle  explained  Chartism  and  the  revolutionary  activity  of  the  work- 
ingmen  as  arising  out  of  the  misery  in  which  they  live,  and  only  wondered  that 
they  have  sat  so  quietly  eight  long  years  at  the  Barmecide  feast,  at  which  they  have 
been  regaled  by  the  Liberal  bourgeoisie  with  empty  promises.  And  in  1844  he 
declared  that  the  work  of  organizing  labor  must  be  begun  at  once  “if  Europe, 
or  at  least  England,  is  long  to  remain  inhabitable.”  And  the  Times ^ the  “ first 
journal  of  Europe,”  said  in  June,  1844:  “ War  to  palaces,  peace  unto  cabins — 

that  is  a battle  cry  of  terror  which  may  come  to  resound  throughout  our  country. 
Let  the  wealthy  beware!” 

* sl:  * 

Meanwhile,  let  us  review  once  more  the  chances  of  the  English  bourgeoisie. 
In  the  worst  case,  foreign  manufacture,  especially  that  of  America,  may  succeed 
in  withstanding  English  competition  even  after  the  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws  in- 
evitable  in  the  course  of  a few  years.  German  manufacture  is  now  making 


I.  To  prevent  misconstructions  and  consequent  objections,  I would  observe  that  I have  spokep 
of  the  bourgeoisie  as  a dass,  and  that  all  such  facts  as  refer  to  individuals  serve  merely  as  evidence 
of  the  way  of  thinking  and  acting  of  a dass.  Hence  I have  not  entered  upon  the  distinctions 
between  the  divers  sections,  subdivisions  and  parties  of  the  bourgeoisie,  which  have  a mere  his- 
torical  and  theoretical  significance.  And  I can,  for  the  same  reason,  mention  but  casually  the  few 
inembers  of  the  bourgeoisie  who  have  shown  themselves  honorable  exceptions.  These  are,  on  the 
one  hand,  the  pronounced  Radicals,  who  are  almost  Chartists,  such  as  a few  members  of  the  House 
of  Commons,  the  manufacturers  Hindly  of  Ashton,  and  Fielden  of  Todmorden,  (Lancashire),  and 
on  the  other  hand,  the  Philanthropie  Tories,  who  have  recently  constituted  themselves  “Young 
England,”  among  whom  are  the  members  of  Parliament,  DTsraeli,  Bosthwick,  Ferrand,  Lord 
John  Manners,  etc.  Lord  Ashley,  too,  is  in  sympathy  with  them.  The  hope  of  Young  England 
is  a restoration  of  the  old  “ Merry  England  ” with  its  brilliant  features  and  its  romantic  Feudalism, 
This  object  is  of  course  unattainable  and  ridiculous,  a satire  upon  all  historic  development;  but  the 
good  Intention,  the  courage  to  resist  the  existing  state  of  things  and  prevalent  prejudices,  and  to 
recognize  the  vileness  of  our  present  condition  is  worth  something  anyhow.  Wholly  isolated  is  the 
half  German-Englishman,  'l’homas  Carlyle,  who,  originally  a Tory,  goes  beyond  all  those  hitherto 
mentioned.  He  has  sounded  the  social  disorder  more  deeply  than  any  other  English  bourgeois,  and 
demands  the  Organization  of  labor. 


T97 


great  efforts,  and  that  of  America  has  developed  with  giant  strides.  America, 
with  its  inexhanstible  resources,  with  its  unmeasnred  coal  and  iron  fields,  with 
its  unexampled  wealth  of  water-power  and  its  navigable  rivers,  but  especially 
with  its  energetic,  active  popnlation  in  comparison  with  which  the  English  are 
phlegmatic  dawdlers,  America  has  in  less  than  ten  years  created  a manufacture 
which  already  competes  with  England  in  the  coarser  cotton  goods,  has  excluded 
the  English  from  the  markets  of  North  and  South  America,  and  holds  its  own 
in  China,  side  by  side  with  England.  If  any  country  is  adapted  to  holding  a 
monopoly  of  manufacture,  it  is  America.  Should  English  manufacture  be  thus 
vanquished,  and  in  the  course  of  the  next  twenty  years  if  the  present  conditions 
remain  unchanged,  this  is  inevitable,  the  majority  of  the  Proletariat  must  become 
forever  superfluous,  and  has  no  other  choice  than  to  starve  or  to  rebel.  Does 
the  English  bourgeoisie  reflect  upon  this  contingency?  On  the  contrary;  its 
favorite  economist,  McCullo:h,  teaches  from  his  student’s  desk,  that  a country 
so  young  as  America,  which  is  not  even  properly  populated,  cannot  carry  on 
manufacture  successfully  or  dream  of  competing  with  an  old  manufacturing 
country  like  England.  It  were  madness  in  the  Americans  to  make  the  attempt, 
for  they  could  only  lose  by  it;  better  far  for  them  to  stick  to  their  agriculture, 
and  when  they  have  brought  their  whole  territory  under  the  plow,  a time  may 
perhaps  come  for  carrying  on  manufacture  with  a profit.  So  says  the  wise 
economist,  and  the  whole  bourgeoisie  worships  him,  w’hile  the  Americans  take 
possession  of  one  market  after  another,  w^hile  a daring  American  speculator 
recently  even  sent  a shipment  of  American  cotton  goods  to  England,  where  they 
were  sold  for  re-exportation! 

But  assuming  that  England  retained  the  monopoly  of  manufactures,  that  its 
factories  perpetually  multiply,  what  must  be  the  result  ? The  commercial  crises 
would  continue,  and  grow  more  violent,  more  terrible,  wdth  the  extension  of  in- 
dustry  and  the  multiplication  of  the  Proletariat.  The  Proletariat  would  increase 
in  geom.etrical  proportion,  in  consequence  of  the  progressive  ruin  of  the  lower 
middle  dass  and  the  giant  strides  with  which  Capital  is  concentrating  itself  in 
the  hands  of  the  few;  and  the  Proletariat  would  soon  embrace  the  whole  nation 
with  the  exception  of  a few  millionaires.  But  in  this  development  there  comes 
a Stage  at  which  the  Proletariat  perceives  how  easily  the  existing  power  may  be 
overthrown,  and  then  follows  a revolution. 

Neither  of  these  supposed  conditions  may,  however,  be  expected  to  arise, 
The  commercial  crises,  the  mightiest  levers  for  all  independent  development  of 
the  Proletariat,  will  probably  shorten  the  process,  acting  in  concert  with  foreign 
competition  and  the  deepening  ruin  of  the  lower  middle  dass.  I think  the 
people  will  not  endure  more  than  one  more  crisis.  The  next  one,  in  1846  or 
1847,  will  probably  bring  with  it  the  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws^  and  the  enact- 
ment  of  the  Charter.  What  revolutionary  movements  the  Charter  may  give  rise 
to  remains  to  be  seen.  But,  by  the  time  of  the  next  following  crisis  which,  ac- 


I.  And  it  did. 


cording  to  tbe  analogy  of  its  predecessors,  must  break  out  in  1852  or  1853, 
unless  delayed  perhaps  by  the  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws  or  hastened^y  other 
influences,  such  as  foreign  competition;  by  the  time  this  crisis  arrives,  the 
English  people  will  have  had  enough  of  being  plundered  by  the  capitalists  and 
left  to  starve  when  the  capitalists  no  longer  require  their  Services.  If,  up  to 
that  time,  the  English  bourgeoisie  does  not  pause  to  reflect — and  to  all  appear- 
ance,  it  certainly  will  not  do  so — a revolution  will  follow  with  which  none 
hitherto  known  can  be  compared.  The  proletarians  driven  to  despair  will  seize 
the  torch  which  Stephens  has  preached  to  them;  the  vengeance  of  the  people 
will  come  down  with  a wrath  of  which  the  rage  of  1793  gives  no  true  idea.  The 
war  of  the  poor  against  the  rieh  will  be  the  bloodiest  ever  waged.  Even  the 
Union  of  a part  of  the  bourgeoisie  with  the  Proletariat,  even  a general  reform  of 
the  bourgeoisie  would  not  help  matters.  Besides,  the  change  of  heart  of  the 
bourgeoisie  could  only  go  as  far  as  a lukewarm  jMste-milieu;  the  more  de- 
termined,  uniting  with  the  workers,  would  only  form  a new  Gironde,  and  suc- 
cumb  in  the  course  of  the  mighty  development.  The  prejudices  of  a whole 
dass  cannot  be  laid  aside  like  an  old  coat;  least  of  all,  those  of  the  stable,  nar- 
row,  selfish  English  bourgeoisie.  These  are  all  inferences  which  may  be  drawn 
with  the  greatest  certainty;  conclusions,  the  premises  for  which  are  undeniable 
facts,  partly  of  historical  development,  partly  facts  inherent  in  human  nature. 
Prophecy  is  nowhere  so  easy  as  in  England,  where  all  the  component  elements 
of  society  are  clearly  defined  and  sharply  separated.  The  revolution  must 
come;  it  is  already  too  late  to  bring  about  a peacef ul  solution;  but  it  can  be 
made  more  gentle  than  that  prophesied  in  the  foregoing  pages.  This  depends, 
however,  more  upon  the  development  of  the  Proletariat  than  upon  that  of  the 
bourgeoisie.  In  proportion,  as  the  Proletariat  absorbs  socialistic  and  commun- 
istic  elements,  will  the  revolution  diminish  in  bloodshed,  revenge  and  savagery. 
Communism  Stands,  in  principle,  above  the  breach  between  bourgeoisie  and 
Proletariat,  recognizes  only  its  historic  significance  for  the  present,  but  not  its 
justification  for  the  future;  wishes,  indeed,  to  bridge  over  this  chasm,  to  do 
away  with  all  dass  antagonisms.  Hence  it  recognizes  as  justified  so  long  as  the 
struggle  exists,  the  exasperation  of  the  Proletariat  towards  its  oppressors  as  a 
necessity,  as  the  most  important  lever  for  a labor  movement  just  beginning;  but 
it  goes  beyond  this  exasperation,  because  communism  is  a question  of  humanity 
and  not  of  the  workers  alone.  Besides,  it  does  not  occur  to  any  communist  to 
wish  to  revenge  himself  upon  individuals,  or  to  believe  that,  in  general,  the 
single  bourgeois  can  act  otherwise,  under  existing  circumstances,  than  he  does 
act.  English  Socialism,  (/.  e.  Communism),  rests  directly  upon  the  irresponsi- 
bility  of  the  individual.  Thus  the  more  the  English  workers  absorb  com- 
munistic  ideas,  the  more  superfluous  becomes  their  present  bitterness  which, 
should  it  continue  so  violent  as  at  present,  could  accomplish  nothing;  and  the 
more  their  action  against  the  bourgeoisie  will  lose  its  savage  cruelty.  If,  indeed, 
it  were  possible  to  make  the  whole  Proletariat  communistic  before  the  war 
breaks  out,  the  end  would  be  very  peaceful;  but  that  is  no  longer  possible,  the 


- 199  “ 

time  has  gone  by.  Mecmwhile,  I think  that  before  the  outbreak  of  open, 
declared  war  of  the  poor  against  the  rieh,  there  will  be  enough  intelligent  com- 
prehension  of  the  social  question  among  the  Proletariat,  to  enable  the  com- 
munistic  party,  with  the  help  of  events,  to  conquer  the  brutal  element  of  the 
revolution  and  prevent  a “ Ninth  Thermidor.”  In  any  case,  the  experience  of 
the  French  will  not  have  been  undergone  in  vain,  and  most  of  the  Chartist 
leaders  are,  moreover,  already  communists.  And  as  Communism  Stands  above 
the  strife  between  bourgeoisie  and  Proletariat,  it  will  be  easier  for  the  better 
elements  of  the  bourgeoisie  (which  are,  however,  deplorably  few,  and  can  look 
for  recruits  only  among  the  rising  generation),  to  unite  with  it  than  with  purely 
proletarian  Chartism. 

If  these  conclusions  have  not  been  sufficiently  established  in  the  course  of  the 
present  work,  there  may  be  other  opportunities  for  demonstrating  that  they  are 
necessary  consequences  of  the  historical  development  of  England.  But  this  I 
maintain,  the  war  of  the  poor  against  the  rieh  now  carried  on  in  detail  and  in- 
directly  will  become  direct  and  universal.  It  is  too  late  for  a peaceful  solution. 
The  classes  are  divided  more  and  more  sharply,  the  spirit  of  resistance  pene- 
trates  the  workers,  the  bitterness  intensifies,  the  guerilla  skirmishes  become  con- 
centrated  in  more  important  battles,  and  soon  a slight  impulse  will  suffice  to  set 
the  avalanche  in  motion.  Then,  indeed,  will  the  war  cry  resound  through  the 
land:  “ War  to  the  palaces,  peace  to  the  cottages!” — but  then  it  will  be  too  late 
for  the  rieh  to  beware. 


THE  END. 


TRANSLATORS S NOTE. 


Being  unable  at  this  late  day  to  obtain  the  original  English,  the  translator  has 
been  compelled  to  re-translate  from  the  German  the  passages  quoted  in  the  text 
from  the  following  sources:  G.  Aiston,  preacher  of  St.  Philip’s,  Bethnal  Green. — 
D.  W.  P.  Alison,  F.  R.  S.  E.,  “ Observations  on  the  Management  of  the  Poor 
in  Scotland,”  1840.  The  Artizan,  1842,  October  Number. — J.  C.  Symons, 
Arts  and  Ariizans  at  Home  and  Abroad^  Edinb.,  183g. — Report  of  the  Town 
Council  of  Leeds,  published  in  Statistical  Journal,  vol,  II.,  p.  404. — Nassau 
\V.  Senior,  Letters  on  the  Factory  Act  to  the  Rt.  Hon.,  the  President  of  the 
Board  of  Trade,  (Chas.  Poulett  Thomson,  Esq.),  London,  1837. — Report  of 
the  Children’s  Employment  Commission. — Mr.  Parkinson,  Canon  of  Manches- 
ter, On  the  Present  Condition  of  the  Laboring  Poor  in  Manchester,  3d  Ed., 
1841. — Factories  Inquiries  Commission’s  Report. — E.  G.  Wakefield,  M.  P., 
Swing  Unmasked,  or  the  Cause  of  Rural  Incendiarism,  London,  1831. — A 
Correspondent  of  the  Morning  Chronicle. — Anonymous  pamphlet  on  “The 
State  of  Ireland,  London,”  1807;  2d  Ed.,  1821. — Report  of  the  Poor  Law  Com- 
missioners;  Extracts  from  Information  received  by  the  Poor  Law  Com- 
missioners.  Published  by  Authority,  London,  1833. 


APPENDIX. 


The  book  which  is  herewith  submitted  to  the  English-speaking  public  in  its 
own  language,  was  written  rather  more  than  forty  years  ago.  The  author,  at 
the  time,  was  young,  twenty-four  years  of  age,  and  his  production  bears  the 
stamp  of  his  youth  with  its  good  and  its  faulty  features,  of  neither  of  which  he 
feels  ashamed.  That  it  is  now  translated  into  English,  is  not  in  any  way  due  to 
his  initiative.  Still  he  may  be  allowed  to  say  a few  words,  “ to  show  cause  why 
this  translation  should  not  be  prevented  from  seeing  the  light  of  day. 

The  state  of  things  described  in  this  book  belongs  to-day  in  many  respects  to 
the  past,  as  far  as  England  is  concerned.  Though  not  expressly  stated  in  our 
recognized  treatises,  it  is  still  a law  of  modern  Political  Economy,  that  the 
larger  the  scale  on  which  Capitalistic  Production  is  carried  on,  the  less  can  it 
Support  the  petty  devices  of  swindling  and  pilfering  which  characterize  its  early 
stages.  The  petty  fogging  business-tricks  of  the  Polish  Jew,  the  representative 
in  Europe  of  commerce  in  its  lowest  stage,  those  tricks  that  serve  him  so  well 
in  his  own  country  and  are  generally  practiced  there,  he  finds  to  be  out  of  date 
and  out  of  place  when  he  comes  to  Hamburg  or  Berlin;  and  again  the  Commis- 
sion Agent,  who  hails  from  Berlin  or  Hamburg,  Jew  or  Christian,  after  fre- 
quenting  the  Manchester  Exchange  for  a few  months,  finds  out  that  in  Order 
to  buy  cotton-yarn  or  cloth  cheap,  he,  too,  had  better  drop  those  slightly  more 
refined  but  still  miserable  wiles  and  subterfuges  which  are  "considered  the  acme 
of  Cleverness  in  his  native  country.  The  fact  is,  those  tricks  do  not  pay  any 
longer  in  a large  market,  where  time  is  money,  and  where  a certain  Standard  of 
commercial  morality  is  unavoidably  developed,  purely  as  a means  of  saving  time 
and  trouble.  And  it  is  the  same  with  the  relation  between  the  manufacturer 
and  his  “ hands.”  The  repeal  of  the  Corn-laws,  the  discovery  of  the  Californian 
and  Australian  gold-fields,  the  almost  complete  crushing-out  of  domestic  hand- 
weaving  in  India,  the  increasing  access  to  the  Chinese  market,  the  rapid  multi- 
plication  of  railways  and  steam-ships  all  over  the  world,  and  other  minor  causes 
have  given  to  English  manufacturing  industry  such  a colossal  development,  that 
the  Status  of  1844  now  appears  to  us  as  comparatively  primitive  and  insignificant. 
And  in  proportion  as  this  increase  took  place,  in  the  same  proportion  did  manii- 
facturing  industry  become,  apparently,  moralized.  The  competition  of 
manufacturer  against  manufacturer  by  means  of  petty  thefts  upon  the  work- 
people  did  no  longer  pay.  Trade  had  outgrown  such  low  means  of  making 
money;  they  were  not  worth  while  practicing  for  the  manufacturing  millionaire. 


II 


and  served  merely  to  keep  alive  the  competition  of  smaller  traders,  thankful  to 
pick  up  a penny  wherever  they  could.  Thus  the  truck-system  was  suppressed; 
the  Ten  Ilours’  Bill  was  enacted,  and  a number  of  other  secondary  reforms 
introduced  — much  against  the  Spirit  of  Free  Trade  and  unbridled  competition, 
but  quite  as  much  in  favor  of  the  giant-capitalist  in  his  competition  with  his  less 
favored  brother.  Moreover,  the  larger  the  concern  and  with  it  the  number  of 
hands,  the  greater  the  loss  and  inconvenience  caused  by  every  conflict  between 
master  and  men;  and  thus  a new  spirit  came  over  the  masters,  especially  the 
large  ones,  which  taught  them  to  avoid  unnecessary  squabbles,  to  acquiesce  in 
the  existence  and  power  of  Trades  Unions,  and  finally  even  to  discover  in 
sirikes  — at  opportune  times  — a powerful  means  to  serve  their  own  ends. 
The  largest  manufacturers,  formerly  the  leaders  of  the  w’ar  against  the  working- 
class,  were  now  the  foremost  to  preach  peace  and  harmony.  And  for  a very 
good  reason.  The  fact  is,  that  all  these  concessions  to  justice  and  philanthropy 
were  nothing  eise  but  means  to  accelerate  the  concentration  of  Capital  in  the 
hands  of  the  few,  for  whom  the  niggardly  extra  extortions  of  former  years  had 
lost  all  importance  and  become  actual  nuisances;  and  tp  crush  all  the  quicker 
and  all  the  safer  their  smaller  competitors  who  could  not  make  both  ends  meet 
without  such  perquisites.  Thus  the  development  of  production  on  the  basis  of 
the  capitalistic  System  has  of  itself  sufficed  — at  least  in  the  leading  industries, 
for  in  the  more  unimportant  branches  this  is  far  from  being  the  case  — to  do 
away  with  all  those  minor  grievances  which  aggravated  the  workman’s  fate 
during  its  earlier  stages.  And  thus  it  renders  more  and  more  evident  the  great 
central  fact,  that  the  cause  of  the  miserable  condition  of  the  working  dass  is  to 
be  sought,  not  in  these  minor  grievances,  but  in  the  Capitalistic  System  itself. 
The  wage-worker  sells  to  the  capitalist  his  labor-force  for  a certain  daily  sum. 
After  a few  hours*  work  he  has  reproduced  the  value  of  that  sum;  but  the  sub- 
stance  of  his  contract  is,  that  he  has  to  work  another  series  of  hours  to  complete 
his  working  day;  and  the  value  he  produces  during  these  additional  hours  of 
surplus  labor,  is  surplus  value  which  costs  the  capitalist  nothing  but  yet  goes 
into  his  pocket.  That  is  the  basis  of  the  System  which  tends  more  and  more  to 
split  Up  civilized  society  into  a few  Vanderbilts,  the  owners  of  all  the  means  of 
production  and  subsistence,  on  the  one  hand,  and  an  immense  number  of  wagc- 
workers,  the  owners  of  nothing  but  their  labor-force,  on  the  other.  And  that 
this  result  is  caused,  not  by  this  or  that  secondary  grievance,  but  by  the  System 
itself  — this  fact  has  been  brought  out  in  bold  relief  by  the  development  of 
Capitalism  in  England  since  1847. 

Again,  the  repeated  visitations  of  cholera,  typhus,  small-pox  and  other 
epidemics  have  shown  the  British  bourgeois  the  urgent  necessity  of  sanitation  in 
his  towns  and  cities,  if  he  wishes  to  save  himself  and  family  from  falling  victims 
to  such  diseases.  Accordingly,  the  most  crying  abuses  described  in  this  book 
have  either  disappeared  or  have  been  made  less  conspieuous.  Drainage  has 
been  introduced  or  improved,  wide  avenues  have  been  opened  out  athwart 
many  of  the  worst  “slums"  I had  to  describe.  “Little  Ireland”  has  disappeared 
and  the  “Seven  Dials’*  are  next  on  the  list  for  sweeping  away.  But  what  of 


that  ? Whole  clistricts  wbich  in  1844  I could  descnbe  as  almost  idyllic,  Iiave 
now,  with  the  growth  of  the  towns,  fallen  into  the  same  state  of  dilapidation, 
discomfort  and  misery,  Only  the  pigs  and  the  heaps  of  refuse  are  no  longer 
tolerated.  The  bourgeoisie  have  made  further  progress  in  the  art  of  hiding  the 
distress  of  the  working  dass.  But  that,  in  regard  to  their  dwellings,  no  sub- 
stantial  improvement  has  taken  place,  is  amply  proved  by  the  Report  of  the 
Royal  Commission  “on  the  Housing  of  the  Poor,”  1885.  And  this  is  the  case, 
too,  in  other  respects.  Police  regulations  have  been  plentiful  as  blackberries; 
but  they  can  only  hedge  in  the  distress  of  the  workers,  they  cannot  remove  it. 

But  while  England  has  thus  outgrown  the  juvenile  state  of  capitalist  ex- 
ploitation  described  by  me,  other  countries  have  only  just  attairuid  it.  France, 
Germany,  and  especially  America,  are  the  formidable  competitors  who  at  this 
moment  — as  foreseen  by  me  in  1S44  — are  more  and  more  breaking  up 
England’s  industrial  monopoly.  Their  manufactures  are  young  as  compared 
with  those  of  England,  but  increasing  at  a far  more  rapid  rate  than  the  latter; 
but  curious  enough,  they  have  at  this  moment  arrived  at  about  the  same  phase 
of  development  as  English  manufacture  in  1844.  With  regard  to  America, 
the  parallel  is  indeed  most  striking.  True,  the  external  surroundings  in  which 
the  working  dass  is  placed  in  America  are  very  different,  but  the  same  econom 
ical  laws  are  at  work,  and  the  results,  if  not  identical  in  every  respect,  must  still 
be  of  the  same  order.  Hence  we  find  in  America  the  same  struggles  for  a 
shorter  working-day,  for  a legal  limitation  of  the  working  time,  especially  of 
women  and  children  in  factories;  we  find  the  truck-system  in  full  blossom,  and 
the  cottage-system,  in  rural  districts,  made  use  of  by  the  “bosses”  as  a means 
of  domination  over  the  workers.  At  this  very  moment  I am  receiving  the 
American  papers  with  accounts  of  the  great  strike  of  12,000  Pennsyivanian  coal- 
miners  in  the  Connellsville  district,  and  I seem  but  to  read  my  own  description 
of  the  North  of  England  Colliers’  strike  of  1844.  The  same  cheating  of  the 
work-people  by  false  measure;  the  same  truck  System;  the  same  attempt  to  break 
the  miners’  resistance  by  the  Capitalists’  last,  but  crushing  resource,  the  eviction 
of  the  men  out  of  their  dwellings,  the  cottages  owned  by  the  Companies. 

There  were  two  drcumstances  which  for  a long  time  prevented  the  unavoid- 
able  consequences  of  the  Capitalist  System  from  showing  themselves  in  the  full 
glare  of  day  in  America.  These  were  the  easy  access  to  the  ownership  of  cheap 
land,  and  the  influx  of  immigration.  They  allowed,  for  many  years,  the  great 
mass  of  the  native  American  population  to  “retire”  in  early  manhood  fromwage- 
labor  and  to  become  farmers,  dealers,  or  employers  of  labor,  while  the  hard 
work  for  wages,  the  position  of  a proletarian  for  life,  mostly  feil  to  the  lot  of 
immigrants.  But  America  has  outgrown  this  early  stage.  The  boundless 
backwoods  have  disappeared,  and  the  still  more  boundless  prairies  are  fast  and 
faster  passing  from  the  hands  of  the  Nation  and  the  States  into  those  of  private 
owners.  The  great  safety-valve  against  the  formation  of  a permanent  prole- 
tarian dass  has  practically  ceased  to  act.  A dass  of  life-long  and  even  heredi- 
tary  proletarians  exists  at  this  hour  in  America.  A nation  of  sixty  millions 
striving  hard  to  become  — and  with  every  chance  of  success,  too  — the  leading 


IV 


manufacturing  nation  of  the  world  — such  a nation  cannot  permanently  imporl 
its  own  wage- working  dass;  not  even  if  immigrants  pour  in  at  the  rate  of  half  « 
million  a year.  The  tendency  of  the  Capitalist  System  towards  the  ultimate 
splitting-up  of  society  into  two  classes,  a few  millionaires  on  the  one  hand,  and 
a great  mass  of  mere  \*  age-workers  on  the  other,  this  tendency,  though  constant- 
ly  crossed  and  counteracted  by  other  social  agencies,  works  nowhere  with  greater 
force  than  in  America;  and  the  result  has  been  the  production  of  a dass  of  native 
American  wage-workers,  who  form,  indeed,  the  aristocracy  of  the  wage-working 
dass  as  compared  with  the  immigrants,  but  who  become  conscious  more  and 
more  every  day  of  their  solidarity  with  the  latter  and  who  feel  all  the  more 
acutely  their  present  condemnation  to  life-long  wage-toil,  because  they  still  re- 
member  the  bygone  days,  when  it  was  comparatively  easy  to  rise  to  a higher 
social  level.  Accordingly  the  working  dass  movement,  in  America,  has  started 
with  truly  American  vigor,  and  as  on  that  side  of  the  Atlantic  things  march  with 
at  least  double  the  European  speed,  we  may  yet  live  to  see  America  take  the 
lead  in  this  respect  too. 

I have  not  attempted.  in  this  translation,  to  bring  the  book  up  to  date,  to 
point  out  in  detail  all  the  changes  that  have  taken  place  since  1844.  And  for 
two  reasons:  Firstly,  to  do  this  properly,  the  size  of  the  book  must  be  about 
doubled,  and  the  translation  came  upon  me  too  suddenly  to  admit  of  my  under- 
taking  such  a work.  And  secondly,  the  first  volume  of  “Das  Kapital”,  by 
Karl  Marx,  an  English  translation  of  which  is  about  to  appear,  contains  a very 
ample  description  of  the  state  of  the  British  working  dass,  as  it  was  about  1865, 
that  is  to  say  at  the  time  when  British  industrial  prosperity  reached  its  culminat- 
ing  point.  I should,  then,  have  been  obliged  again  to  go  over  theground  already 
covered  by  Marx’s  celebrated  work. 

It  will  be  hardly  necessary  to  point  out  that  the  general  theoretical  stand- 
point  of  this  book  — philosophical,  economical,  political  — does  not  exactly 
coincide  with  my  standpoint  of  to-day.  Modern  international  Socialism,  since 
fully  developed,  as  a Science,  chiefly  and  almost  exclusively  through  the  efforts 
of  Marx,  did  not  as  yet  exist  in  1844.  My  book  represents  one  of  the  phases 
of  its  embryonic  development;  and  as  the  human  embryo,  in  its  early  stages, 
still  reproduces  the  gill-arches  of  our  fish-ancestors,  so  this  book  exhibits  every- 
where  the  traces  of  the  descent  of  modern  Socialism  from  one  of  its  ancestors, 
German  philosophy.  Thus  great  stress  is  laid  on  the  dictum  that  Communism 
is  not  a mere  party  doctrine  of  the  working  dass,  but  a theory  compassing  the 
emancipation  of  society  at  large,  including  the  Capitalist  dass,  from  its  present 
narrow  conditions.  This  is  true  enough  in  the  abstract,  but  absolutely  useless, 
and  worse,  in  practice.  So  long  as  the  wealthy  classes  not  only  do  not  feel  the 
want  of  any  emancipation,  but  strenuously  oppose  the  self-emancipation  of  the 
working  dass,  so  long  the  social  revolution  will  have  to  be  prepared  and  fought 
out  by  the  working  dass  alone.  The  French  bourgeois  of  1789,  too,  declared 
the  emancipation  of  the  bourgeoisie  to  be  the  emancipation  of  the  whole  human 
race;  but  the  nobility  and  clergy  would  not  see  it;  the  proposition  — though  for 
che  time  being  and,  with  respect  to  feudalism,  an  abstract  historical  truth  — 


V 


soon  became  a mere  sentimentalism  and  disappeared  from  view  altogether  in  the 
fire  of  the  revolutionary  struggle.  And  to-day,  the  very  people  who,  from  the 
inipartiality  of  their  “superior  stand-point”  preach  to  the  workers  a Socialism 
soaring  high  above  their  dass  interests  and  dass  stniggles,  and  tending  to  re- 
concile  in  a higher  humanity  the  interests  of  both  the  contending  dasses  — 
these  people  are  either  neophytes,  who  have  still  to  learn  a great  deal,  or  they 
are  the  worst  eneinies  of  the  workers  — wolves  in  sheeps’  dothing. 

The  recurring  period  of  the  great  industrial  crises  is  stated  in  the  text  as  five 
years.  This  was  the  period  apparently  indicated  by  the  course  of  events  from 
1825  to  1842.  But  the  industrial  history  from  1842  to  1868  has  shown  that  the 
real  period  is  one  of  ten  years  ; that  the  Intermediate  revolutions  were  secondary 
and  tended  more  and  more  to  disappear.  Since  1868  the  state  of  things  has 
changed  again,  of  which  more  anon. 

I have  taken  care  not  to  strike  out  of  the  text  the  many  prophecies,  amongst 
others  that  of  an  imminent  social  revolution  in  England,  which  my  youthful 
ardor  induced  me  to  venture  upon.  The  wonder  is,  not  that  a good  many  of 
them  proved  wrong,  but  that  so  many  of  them  have  proved  right,  and  that  the 
critical  state  of  English  trade,  to  be  brought  on  by  German  and  especially 
American  competition,  which  I then  foresaw  — though  in  too  short  a period  — 
has  now  actually  come  to  pass.  In  this  respect  I can,  and  am  bound  to,  bring 
the  book  up  to  date,  by  placing  here  an  article  which  I published  in  the  London 
“Commonweal”  of  March  i,  1885,  under  the  heading:  .“England  in  1845  and  in 
1885.”  It  gives  at  the  same  time  a short  outline  of  the  history  of  the  English 
working  dass  during  these  forty  years,  and  is  as  follow-s: 

“Forty  years  ago  England  stood  face  to  face  with  a crisis,  solvable  to  all 
appearances  by  force  only.  The  immense  and  rapid  development  of  manufac- 
tures  had  outstripped  the  extension  of  foreign  markets  and  the  increase  of  demand. 
Every  ten  years  the  march  of  industry  was  violently  interrupted  by  a general 
commercial  crash,  followed,  after  a long  period  of  chronic  depression,  by  a few 
short  years  of  prosperity,  and  always  ending  in  feverish  over-production  and 
consequent  renewed  collapse.  The  Capitalist  dass  clamored  for  Free  Trade  in 
corn,  and  threatened  to  enforce  it  by  sending  the  starving  population  of  the 
towns  back  to  the  country  districts  whence  they  came,to  invade  them,  as  John 
Bright  said,  not  as  paupers  begging  for  bread,  but  as  an  army  quartered  upon 
the  enemy.  The  working  masses  of  the  towns  demanded  their  share  of  political 
power — the  People’s  Charter;  they  were  supported  by  the  majority  of  the 
small  trading  dass,  and  the  only  difference  between  the  two  was  whether  the 
Charter  should  be  carried  by  physical  or  by  moral  force.  Then  came  the 
commercial  crash  of  1847  and  the  Irish  famine,  and  with  both  the  prospect  of 
revolution. 

“The  French  Revolution  of  1848  saved  the  English  middle  dass.  The 
Socialistic  pronunciamentoes  of  the  victorious  P'rench  workmen  frightened  the 
small  middle  dass  of  England  and  disorganized  the  narrower,  but  more  matter- 
of-fact  movement  of  the  English  working  dass.  At  the  very  moment  when 
Chartism  was  bound  to  assert  itself  in  its  full  strength,  it  collapsed  internally, 
before  even  it  collapsed  externally  on  the  loth  of  April,  1848.  The  action  of 
the  working  dass  was  thrust  into  the  background.  The  capitalist  dass 
triumphed  along  the  whole  line. 

“The  Reform  Bill  of  1831  had  been  the  victory  of  the  whole  capitalist  dass 
over  the  landed  aristocracy.  d'he  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws  was  the  victory  of 


VI 


the  manufacturing  capitalists  not  only  over  the  landed  aristocracy,  but  over 
those  sections  of  capitalists,  too,  whose  interests  were  more  or  less  bound  up 
with  the  landed  interest:  bankers,  stock-jobbers,  fundholders,  etc.  Free  Trade 
meant  the  re-ad justment  of  the  whole  home  and  foreign  commercial  and  finan- 
cial policy  of  England  in  accordance  with  the  interests  of  the  manufacturing 
capitalists — the  dass  which  now  represented  the  nation.  And  they  set  about 
this  task  with  a will.  Every  obstacle  to  industrial  production  was  mercilessly 
removed.  The  tariff  and  the  whole  System  of  taxation  were  revolutionized. 
Everything  was  made  subordinate  to  one  end,  but  that  end  of  the  ulmost  im- 
portance  to  the  manufacturing  capitalist:  the  cheapening  of  all  raw  produce, 
and  especially  of  the  means  of  living  of  the  working  dass  ; the  reduction  of  the 
cost  of  raw  material,  and  the  keeping  down — if  not  as  yet  the  bringing  down — 
of  wages.  England  was  to  become  the  “ workshop  of  the  world  all  other 
countries  were  to  become  for  England  what  Ireland  already  was — markets 
for  her  manufactured  goods,  supplying  her  in  return  with  raw  materials  and 
food.  England  the  great  manufacturing  centre  of  an  agricultural  world,  with 
an  ever-increasing  number  of  corn  and  cotton-growing  Irelands,  revolving 
around  her,  the  industrial  sun.  What  a glorious  prospect ! 

“The  manufacturing  capitalists  set  about  the  realization  of  this  their  great 
object  with  that  strong  common  sense  and  that  contempt  for  traditional  principles 
which  has  ever  distinguished  them  from  their  more  narrow-minded  compeers  on 
the  Continent.  Chartism  was  dying  out.  The  revival  of  commercial  prosperity 
natural  after  the  revulsion  of  1847  had  spent  itself,  was  put  down  altogether  to 
the  credit  of  Free  Trade.  Both  these  circumstances  had  turned  the  English 
working  dass,  politically,  into  the  tail  of  the  great  Liberal  party,  the  party  led 
by  the  manufacturers.  This  advantage,  once  gained,  had  to  be  perpetuated. 
And  the  manufacturing  capitalists,  from  the  Chartist  Opposition  not  to  Free 
Trade,  but  to  the  transformation  of  Free  Trade  into  the  one  vital  national  ques- 
tion,  had  learnt  and  were  learning  more  and  more,  that  the  middle  dass  can 
never  obtain  full  social  and  political  power  over  the  nation  except  by  the  help  of 
the  working  dass.  Thus  a gradual  change  came  over  the  relations  between 
both  classes.  The  Factory  Acts,  once  the  bugbear  of  all  manufacturers,  were 
not  only  willingly  submitted  to,  but  their  expansion  into  acts  regulating  almost 
all  trades,  was  tolerated.  Trades’  Unions,  lately  considered  inventions  of  the 
devil  himself , were  now  petted  and  patronized  as  perfectly  legitimate  institutions, 
and  as  useful  means  of  spreading  sound  economical  doctrines  amongst  the 
workers.  Even  strikes,  than  which  nothing  had  been  more  nefarious  up  to  1848, 
were  now  gradually  found  out  to  be  occasionally  very  useful,  especially  when 
provoked  by  the  masters  themselves,  at  their  own  time.  Of  the  legal  enactments, 
placing  the  workman  at  a lower  level  or  at  a disadvantage  with  regard  to  the 
master,  at  least  the  most  revolting  were  repealed.  And,  practically,  that  horrid 
“ People’s  Charter  ” actually  became  the  political  programme  of  the  very  manu- 
facturers who  had  opposed  it  to  the  last.  “The  Abolition  of  the  Property 
Qualification  " and  ‘ ‘ Vote  by  Ballot  ” are  now  the  law  of  the  land.  The  Reform 
Acts  of  1867  and  1884  make  a near  approach  to  “ universal  suffrage,”  at  least 
such  as  it  now  exists  in  Germany  ; the  Redistribution  Bill  now  before  Parliament 
creates  “ equal  electoral  districts  ” — on  the  whole  not  more  unequal  than  those 
of  France  or  Germany  ; “ payment  of  members  ” and  shorter,  if  not  actually 
“ annual  parliaments,”  are  visibly  looming  in  the  distance — and  yet  there  are 
people  who  say  that  Chartism  is  dead. 

“ The  Revolution  of  1848,  not  less  than  many  of  its  predecessors,  has  had 
Strange  bed-fellows  and  successors.  The  very  people  who  put  it  down,  have 
become,  as  Karl  Marx  used  to  säy,  its  testamentary  executors.  Louis  Napoleon 
had  to  create  an  independent  and  united  Italy,  Bismarck  had  to  revolutionize 
Germany  and  to  restore  Hungarian  independence,  and  the  English  manufacturers 
had  to  enact  the  Peoples'  Charter. 


VII 


“For  England,  the  effects  of  this  domination  of  the  manufacturing  capitalists 
were  at  first  startling.  Trade  revived  and  extended  to  a degree  unheard  of  even 
in  this  cradle  of  modern  industry  ; the  previous  astounding  creations  of  steara 
and  machinery  dwindled  into  nothing  compared  with  the  immense  mass  of  pro- 
ductions  of  the  tvventy  years  from  1850  to  1870,  with  the  overwhelming  figures 
of  exports  and  Imports,  of  wealth  accumulated  in  the  hands  of  capitalists  and  of 
human  working  power  concentrated  in  the  large  towns.  The  progress  was  in- 
deed  interrupted,  as  before,  by  a crisis  every  ten  years,  in  1857  as  well  as  in 
1868  ; but  these  revulsions  were  now  considered  as  natural,  inevitable  events, 
which  must  be  fatalistically  submitted  to,  and  which  always  set  themselves  right 
in  the  end. 

“ And  the  condition  of  the  working  dass  during  this  period  ? There  was 
temporary  improvement  even  for  the  great  mass.  But  this  improvement  always 
was  reduced  to  the  old  level  by  the  influx  of  the  great  body  of  the  unemployed 
reserve,  by  the  constant  superseding  of  hands  by  new  machinery,  by  the  Immi- 
gration of  the  agricultural  population,  now,  too,  more  and  more  superseded  by 
machincs. 

“ A permanent  improvement  can  be  recognized  for  two  “ protected  " sections 
only  of  the  working  dass.  Firstly,  the  factory  hands.  The  fixing  by  Act  of 
Parliament  of  their  working-day  within  relatively  rational  limits,  has  restored 
their  physical  Constitution  and  endowed  them  with  a moral  superiority,  enhanced 
by  their  local  concentration.  They  are  undoubtedly  better  off  than  before  1848. 
The  best  proof  is  that  out  of  ten  strikes  they  make.  nine  are  provoked  by  the 
manufacturers  in  their  own  interests,  as  the  only  means  of  securing  a reduced 
production.  You  can  never  get  the  masters  to  agree  to  work  “ short  time,”  let 
manufactured  goods  be  ever  so  unsaleable  ; but  get  the  workpeople  to  strike, 
and  the  masters  shut  their  factories  to  a man. 

“ Secondly,  the  great  Trades’  Unions.  They  are  the  organizations  of  those 
trades  in  which  the  labor  of  gro%vn-up  men  predominates,  or  is  alone  applicable. 
Here  the  competition  neither  of  women  and  children  nor  of  machinery  has  so 
far  weakened  their  organized  strength.  The  engineers,  the  carpenters  and 
joiners,  the  bricklayers,  are  each  of  them  a power,  to  that  extent  that,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  bricklayers  and  bricklayers’  laborers,  they  can  even  successfully 
resist  the  introduction  of  machinery.  That  their  condition  has  remarkably  im- 
proved  since  1848  there  can  be  nodoubt,  and  the  best  proof  of  this  is  in  the  fact 
that  for  more  than  fifteen  years  not  only  have  their  employers  been  with  them, 
but  they  with  their  employers,  upon  exceedingly  good  terms.  They  form  an 
aristocracy  among  the  working  dass  ; they  have  succeeded  in  enforcing  for 
themselves  a relatively  comfortable  position,  and  they  accept  it  as  final.  They 
are  the  model  working  men  of  Messrs.  Leone  Levi  and  Giffen,  and  they  are  very 
nice  people  indeed  nowadays  to  deal  with,  for  any  sensible  capitalist  in  particu- 
lar  and  for  the  whole  capitalist  dass  in  general. 

“ But  as  to  the  great  mass  of  working  people,  the  state  of  misery  and  insecuri- 
ty  in  which  they  live  now  is  as  low  as  ever,  if  not  iower.  The  East-end  of 
London  is  an  everspreading  pool  of  stagnant  misery  and  desolation,  of  starvation 
when  out  of  work,  and  degradation,  physical  and  moral,  when  in  work.  And 
so  in  all  other  large  towns — abstraction  made  of  the  privileged  minority  of  the 
workers  ; and  so  in  the  smaller  towns  and  in  the  agricultural  districts.  The  law 
which  reduces  the  value  of  labor-power  to  the  value  of  the  necessary  means  of 
subsistence,  and  the  other  law  which  reduces  its  average  price^  as  a rule,  to  the 
minimum  of  those  means  of  subsistence,  these  laws  act  upon  them  with  the 
irresistible  force  of  an  automatic  engine,  which  crushes  them  between  its 
wheels. 

“ This,  then,  was  the  position  created  by  the  Free  Trade  policy  of  1847,  and 
by  twenty  years  of  the  rule  of  the  manufacturing  capitalists.  But,  then,  a change 
came.  The  crash  of  1868  was,  indeed,  followed  by  a slight  and  short  revival 


VIII 


about  1873  ; but  that  did  not  last.  We  did  not,  indeed,  pass  through  the  full 
crisis  at  the  time  it  was  due,  in  1877  or  1878  ; but  we  have  had,  ever  since  1876, 
a chronic  state  of  Stagnation  in  all  dominant  branches  of  industry.  Neither  will 
the  full  crash  come  ; nor  will  the  period  of  longed-for  prosperity  to  whicn  we 
used  to  be  entitled  before  and  after  it.  A dull  depression,  a chronic  glut  of  all 
markets  for  all  trades,  that  is  what  we  have  been  living  in  for  nearly  ten  years. 
How  is  this  ? 

“ The  Free  Trade  theory  was  based  upon  one  assumption : that  England 
was  to  be  the  one  great  manufacturing  centre  of  an  agricultural  world.  And 
the  actual  fact  is  that  this  assumption  has  turned  out  to  be  a pure  delusion. 
The  conditions  of  modern  industry,  steam-power  and  machinery,  can  be  estab- 
lished  wherever  there  is  fuel,  especially  coals.  And  other  countries  beside 
England:  France,  Belgium,  Germany,  America,  even  Russia,  have  coals.  And 
the  people  over  there  did  not  see  the  advantage  of  being  turned  into  Irish  pauper 
farmers  merely  for  the  greater  wealth  and  glory  of  English  capitalists.  They 
set  resolutely  about  manufacturing,  not  only  for  themselves,  but  for  the  rest  of 
the  world  ; and  the  consequence  is,  that  the  manufacturing  monopoly  enjoyed 
by  England  for  nearly  a Century  is  irretrievably  broken  up. 

“ But  the  manufacturing  monopoly  of  England  is  the  pivot  of  the  present 
social  System  of  England.  Even  while  that  monopoly  lasted,  the  markets  could 
not  keep  pace  with  the  increasing  productivity  of  English  manufacturers  ; the 
decennial  crises  were  the  consequence.  And  new  markets  are  getting  scarcer 
every  day,  so  much  so  that  even  the  negroes  of  the  Congo  are  now  to  be  forced 
into  the  civilization  attendant  upon  Manchester  calicoes,  Staffordshire  pottery, 
and  Birmingham  hardware.  How  will  it  be  when  Continental,  and  especially 
American  goods,  flow  in  in  ever-increasing  quantities — when  the  predominating 
share,  still  held  iDy  British  manufacturers,  will  become  reduced  from  year  to 
year?  Answer,  Free  Trade,  thou  universal  panacea, 

“ I am  not  the  first  to  point  this  out.  Already,  in  1883,  at  the  Southport 
meeting  of  the  British  Association,  Mr.  Inglis  Palgrave,  the  President  of  the 
Economical  section,  stated  plainly  that  “the  days  of  great  trade  profits  in 
England  were  over,  and  there  was  a pause  in  the  progress  of  several  great 
branches  of  industrial  labor.  The  couniry  jnighi  ahnosi  be  said  io  be  entering 
ihe  non-progressive  state T 

“ But  what  is  to  be  the  consequence?  Capitalist  production  cayinot  stop.  It 
must  go  on  increasing  and  expanding,  or  it  must  die.  Even  now,  the  mere  re- 
duction  of  England’s  lion’s  share  in  the  supply  of  the  world’s  markets  means 
Stagnation,  distress,  excess  of  Capital  here,  excess  of  unemployed  workpeople 
there.  What  will  it  be  when  the  increase  of  yearly  production  is  brought  to  a 
complete  stop  ? 

“ Here  is  the  vulnerable  place,  the  heel  of  Achilles,  for  capitalistic  production. 
Its  very  basis  is  the  nCcessity  of  constant  expansion,  and  this  constant  expansion 
now  becomes  impossible.  It  ends  in  a deadlock.  Every  year  England  is 
brought  nearer  face  to  face  with  the  question  : either  the  country  must  go  to 
pieces,  or  capitalist  production  must.  Which  is  it  to  be  ? 

“ And  the  working  dass  ? If  even  under  the  unparalleled  commercial  and 
industrial  expansion,  from  1848  to  1868,  they  have  had  to  undergo  such  misery; 
if  even  then  the  great  bulk  of  them  experienced  at  best  but  a temporary  improye- 
ment  of  their  condition,  while  only  a small,  privileged,  “ protected  ” minority 
was  permanently  benefitted,Jwhat  will  it  be  when  this  dazzling  period  is  brought 
finally  to  a dose ; when  the  present  dreary  Stagnation  shall  not  only  become  in- 
tensifiedjbut  this,  its  intensified  condition,  shall  become  the  permanent  and  nor- 
mal state  of  English  trade  ? 

1 “ The  truth  is  this  : during  the  period  of  England’s  industrial  monopoly  the 

\\  English  working  dass  have,  to  a certain  extent,  shared  in  the  benefits  of  the 
I monopoly.  These  benefits  were  very  unequally  parcelled  out  amongst  them; 


IX 


ihe  privileged  minority  pocketed  most,  but  even  the  great  mass  had  at  least  a 
temporary  share  now  and  then.  And  tliat  is  the  reason  why  since  the  dying-out 
of  Owenism  there  has  been  no  Socialism  in  England.  With  the  breakdown  of^ 
that  monopoly,  the  English  working  dass  will  lose  that  privileged  position  ; it 
will  find  itself  generally — the  privileged  and  leading  minority  not  excepted — on 
a level  with  its  fellow-workers  abroad.  And  that  is  the  reason  why  there  will 
be  Sodalism  again  in  England.** 

London,  February  25,  1886.  Frederick  Engels. 


f 


I N D EX 


ACCIDENTS — 72,  95,  100,  ITO,  III,  167. 

Adulter  ATI  ON — 47,  et.  seq. 

Apprentices — 114,  132,  et.  seq.  140. 

CHARTER--151,  et.  seq.  187,  197. 

Chartism — V.  VI.,  45,  82,  153,  et.  seq.  184,  195. 

Chartists — 90,  118,  133,  154,  et.  seq.  170,  173, 

CoRN  Laws— 76,  175,  179,  187,  196. 

League— 81,  154,  178,  187. 

Repeal  of — I.,  13,  155,  i57,  184, 

Cottage  System — iii.,  122,  124.  169,  172. 

Crime — Form  of  R.ebellion — 178,  et.  seq.  183, 

Increase  of  87,  88. 

Juvenile  134,  137. 

Result  of  Overcrowding — 45,  80,  81, 

Diseases — Engendered  by  Dwellings — 135. 

Filth — 25,  29,  44,  64. 

Occupation — iio,  119,  128,  138. 
Overwork — 102,  104,  et.  seq.  115,  165, 
Want — 22,  50,  60,  72,  132,  141. 
Education — Means  of — 73,  et.  seq.  130,  134,  135,  160,  168. 

Want  of — 61,  84,  86,  99. 

EMPLOYMENT  of  ChILDREN — III. 

In  Agriculture — 175,  176. 

In  Factories — 94,  et.  seq.  112,  115,  et.  seq.  133. 
In  House  Industry — 126,  et.  seq. 

In  Mines — 162,  164,  et.  seq. 

In  the  Night — 128,  139. 

Employment  of  Women — iii. 

In  Agriculture — 176. 

In  Factories — 94^  et.  seq.  108,  109,  117,  133. 

In  Mines — 162,  167. 

In  Sewing — 140,  et.  seq. 


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